The Mirror Of My Dreams
by LadyJenilyn
Summary: A young waitress at the Cafe Du Monde in New Orleans attempts to help a lost Draco, gets hunted down by an angry Lucius and discovers much about her past, her identity and her future in the Wizarding world. Multifaceted Award Nominee.
1. Chapter One

Chapter One  
  
It was a hot, steamy night, and the air smelled like coffee, jasmine, and food from the restaurants down the street. Jazz floated out of the bars. Masses of people swirled around and into the open-aired café, talking and laughing.  
  
I sighed and wiped the sweat off my face. I'd had a long night at the Café Du Monde, carrying trays of coffee and the little, French doughnuts called beignets. The work was fast paced, and the customers would not stop pouring in. My back and leg muscles ached to the point of cramping, and all I wanted to do was go back to my little apartment and blast the air conditioner. It was toward the end of my shift, about 1:00 in the morning, when my manager, Dan, caught my attention.  
  
"Hey, Miriel, see that kid on the bench? I think he stole the tips off one of your tables."  
  
"Great. That's just what I need." Honestly, customers weren't supposed to leave the tips on the tables. I really didn't want to deal with it, but the look on Dan's face told me that he expected me to. Probably so he wouldn't have to confront anyone himself. Coward.  
  
I walked over to the figure seated on the bench. The bench was bolted onto the sidewalk, facing the street. The lamplights poured down golden light. It first struck me that the teenager was so pale, that he seemed to gather the light to himself, and it glowed on his pale, silvery hair and pointed face. He was hunched over, watching the people go by.  
  
"Do you have a problem?" I asked. "You haven't been stealing tips off the tables, have you?"  
  
"I have no idea what you mean." His accent was British and cultured.  
  
"Are you okay?" I touched his shoulder, but he flinched and jerked away. He turned his face up to me. His cheekbone was bruised, and his lip was split.  
  
"You look awful," I finally said. I sat carefully on the edge of the bench with a sigh, glad for an excuse to sit down for a moment. The poor guy's face was expressionless, but his eyes managed to look exhausted, angry, afraid and miserable all at the same time.  
  
I'd seen that look many times before. "What happened to you? Did you get mugged or something?" I was used to seeing homeless kids and runaways at the Covenant House, a homeless shelter in New Orleans ran by nuns. Sometimes I had gone there to get boxes of food when I ran short of money. I glanced over his clothes. They were expensive, black slacks and a gray, silken shirt. He didn't exactly look like a runaway, but still, you never know.  
  
"My father is here looking for someone," he told me. "I got separated from him in the crowds. I was distracted looking in a shop for a moment, and when I looked up he was gone. Then these drunken idiots pushed me down and punched me. I broke my..." Between his fingers he held what looked like a broken stick with pieces of thread poking out the end of it. I could actually feel the anger rolling off of him like a wave of heat.  
  
"Mardi Gras was only a couple of weeks ago," I said. "People are still all worked up over it. The French Quarter can be kind of dangerous at night. Do you want me to call the police? They could help you."  
  
He hesitated for a moment, as if he wasn't quite sure exactly what I meant. Finally he shook his head. "No. That would just make him angrier. We were in this area yesterday when I lost him. I should run into him sooner or later."  
  
"Why would your dad get angry because you called the police? He's probably worried sick about you." When he didn't answer, I tried another question. "What's your name?"  
  
"Malfoy. Draco Malfoy."  
  
"Really? That's your real name?"  
  
His mouth tightened in annoyance, but he didn't say anything. His stomach rumbled.  
  
"Are you hungry?" I asked.  
  
He suddenly seemed to see me for the first time. After hesitating a moment, he nodded.  
  
"Wait until my shift is over. I'm almost done. I'll get you something."  
  
I put away my work apron and debated with myself what to do. He must have been a couple of years younger than me. Even though he looked like he might be at least a foot taller than me, his build was quite slender. He didn't look dangerous.  
  
The air seemed to tingle along my skin, like static electricity rubbing up against my arms and at the back of my neck. I had a curious feeling come over me as I stood there watching the boy on the bench. It wasn't a feeling of familiarity or of dejavu; rather, it was an elusive feeling of connection. I felt compelled to know him. I sensed that he would somehow become important to me. The sensation was intense for a moment, and then it faded.  
  
"Well, Draco," I told him. "I usually don't invite strange guys to my place, but I have something to eat at my apartment. It's not too far from here."  
  
He slid off the bench and began to follow me down the street. My car hadn't been running for quite a while. It was absolutely impossible to drive around the narrow streets of the French Quarter this time of year without getting killed, anyway.  
  
"Why do you care so much?" Draco asked. His voice was sullen and laced with suspicion.  
  
I shrugged. "I know what it's like to be hungry."  
  
"I'm not poor," he bit out. "My father is quite wealthy."  
  
"Why did you have to steal my tips then?"  
  
"I have a little money, but it's foreign. The banks here can't exchange it."  
  
"What does your dad do?"  
  
"He works as a consultant for um... the government. He's on all sorts of committees, and he serves on Gringott's bank board of governors. He gives a lot of money to charities. He owns a lot of businesses, including a publishing house. He's written some books, as well, about the history of different families in the United Kingdom, and the Dark Arts-." He stopped suddenly as if catching himself.  
  
"Dark Arts? What the heck is that?" For some reason all I could picture was a darkened art gallery.  
  
"Forget it," He snapped. "Just get me out of this bloody heat. It's disgusting. It's like walking in a bloody jungle."  
  
I was impressed. I might have suspected him of lying about his father, if it hadn't been for that great accent and those expensive clothes. He even walked and moved with the smooth confidence of the rich. I'd seen that kind of confidence in the wealthy families of New Orleans, the ones who shopped in the expensive art galleries and antique shops. They always had that air about them, like they already owned everything.  
  
My apartment was over my mother's old shop. The shop was closed and the windows were dark. It still made my breath catch sometimes to see it like this. It had been a beautiful place when my mother had owned it, full of antique glassware and mysterious mirrors. But now it was just a tourist shop, full of t-shirts, Mardi Gras beads, shot glasses, and other tacky stuff. Usually, there was no way I could ever have afforded an apartment here, but the man who took over the shop let me stay in the rooms upstairs. He didn't need them, and I think he felt sorry for me.  
  
It wasn't much, but at least it felt familiar. There wasn't much furniture, but it was clean. Mostly there were just piles of books everywhere, overflowing out of bookcases and stacked on the coffee table.  
  
"You live here?" There was a disgusted sneer on Draco's face. He walked into the room, as if afraid of touching anything.  
  
"If it's not good enough for you, you can go back to sitting on the bench." Spoiled brat, I thought. I tried not to think about what my apartment must look like to someone who probably lived in a mansion. I slammed the door closed and clicked on the small air conditioner in the corner.  
  
"Where are your parents?" His pale face was flushed from the heat, and he wiped the sweat off his face with his sleeve.  
  
I didn't want to tell him that my mother had died, and that I never even knew who my father was. I just said, "I'm older than I look. I live on my own."  
  
"You look like a kid," he said, collapsing on the sofa, across from the cool breeze of the air conditioner.  
  
"I'm almost nineteen." I went to the counter of my little kitchen area and began fixing sandwiches. I gave him a glass of coke with ice, and he sipped it tentatively.  
  
"It's fizzy," he announced. "And brown."  
  
"Don't tell me you don't have Coke in Britain."  
  
"My father doesn't usually allow me to visit Muggle cities." A defensive tone crept into his voice.  
  
"Muggle?" Was that some kind of British slang? "You mean American?"  
  
He didn't reply. Instead, he leaned over onto the sofa cushion and closed his eyes.  
  
"I have a lot of pizza in the fridge, if you want some of that as well." I said. "I'm kind of a pizza addict. Sometimes I think that's all I live on."  
  
He still didn't answer me. By the time I finished the sandwiches, he was asleep.  
  
"Hey, Draco." I shook his shoulder. "Don't you want to eat something?"  
  
He mumbled something, but wouldn't move.  
  
I lifted his legs onto the sofa and left him there. I studied him as I devoured my sandwich. In better light I could see that under the bruises he was kind of cute in an elegant way. Full lips softened the sharp angles of his face. He didn't have that awkward look that teenage boys usually have, when their hands are a little bit too large or their noses are too big for their faces. He slept quietly, cheek pale against the cushion, and he didn't look innocent. He looked faintly troubled, as if sleep was something he had to concentrate on and get right. He looked... unprotected. 


	2. Chapter Two

Chapter Two  
  
I was startled the next morning by the sound of the television. I lied in bed for a few moments, my heart racing, before I remembered. I glanced at the clock. It was way too early in the morning. Thank God it was my day off. I unlocked my bedroom door and poked my head out.  
  
Draco sat on my couch, his eyes glued to the TV screen. He flicked the remote control at the television, changing the channels. His clothes were rumpled from sleeping on the sofa. His silvery hair poked up in every direction.  
  
I started into the room, and stopped as I saw the screen was filled with nude bodies.  
  
"I can't believe they show that on cable!" I said. "What channel is that?"  
  
"We learned about these things in school. These tellies." Draco gazed at the screen. "But Professor Winterwind never told us that Muggles actually have sex on them." He looked at me suddenly, as if realizing he'd just said something foolish.  
  
"You don't have a television?"  
  
He shook his head. "No, my father would never allow me to own one. He doesn't believe in owning Muggle artifacts. He thinks it would corrupt me."  
  
"Maybe he has a point," I muttered. I took the remote and changed the television to a channel where the actors actually wore clothing. "Can't you sleep in?"  
  
"It's the time difference. It's messed up my sleeping. In Britain it's already the late afternoon. I'm still starving by the way." He looked at me as if he expected me to conjure food out of thin air.  
  
"There's food in the fridge. Help yourself." God, I needed some coffee. I was still tired and cranky, and I could feel a headache begin to throb behind my eyes. Caffeine addiction was an unfortunate consequence of working at a coffee shop.  
  
Draco looked horrified. "Me? Cook?"  
  
I rolled my eyes, wondering how many servants he had at home to serve him breakfast. I put the coffee on, and as I scrambled some eggs and ham, I glanced over my shoulder at Draco. He was busy touching everything in my apartment. He studied my phone, my VCR and even my ball point pens, twisting them open to look inside. What was wrong with him? I finally caught him grabbing a picture frame off the shelves, and poking the photograph with his finger!  
  
"What are you doing?" Nervousness made my voice sharp. "Look, I know that things may be a little different here in the States, but they can't be that different." There was obviously something a little "off" about this guy. Maybe he needed to take his medication. I was beginning to wonder if bringing a stranger to my apartment wasn't such a good idea after all.  
  
He replaced the picture frame, and continued to study my apartment. He began snooping through the stacks of books on my coffee table.  
  
I took a deep breath to steady myself. "My name is Miriel Laveau, by the way. If you want to know."  
  
Draco finally looked at me sharply. "Your name sounds familiar. I think my father might be looking for someone named Laveau. I wasn't really paying too much attention. I think she was a lady who sold mirrors or something like that."  
  
A cold, little chill curled in my stomach. "What's your dad's name?"  
  
"Lucius Malfoy."  
  
"I've never heard of him. Laveau is a pretty common name in New Orleans."  
  
"My father is going to be furious when he finds me." Draco sighed. He dropped the books onto the table and fell back onto the sofa. "Bloody hell, he'll never take me anywhere again. It took my mother forever to get him to agree to take me on this trip."  
  
"But it wasn't your fault," I told him. "Things get really crazy here around spring break. The cops are busy all the time. College students always think this place is one big party, and all they do is get drunk, fight and flash people. Maybe he won't be as mad as you think he's going to be."  
  
"He told me to keep close by him, and to pay attention. And I didn't. I was so interested in that Muggle magic shop-"  
  
"Muggle magic?"  
  
He nodded. "Yeah, it had these little ugly dolls in the window that curse people."  
  
"Oh, a voodoo shop."  
  
"And he disappeared. I looked for him everywhere."  
  
I gave Draco a plate of ham and eggs and grits. He immediately started shoveling the food into his mouth.  
  
"Can't you say thank you?" I snapped. The feeling I'd had last night of being connected to him in some way must have been some form of dementia. He was really beginning to get on my nerves. I poured myself a cup of coffee, and slurped it down, waiting for the caffeine to kick in.  
  
"You want my thanks, huh? I thought you were doing this all out of the kindness of your heart." He smirked. "Okay, okay, thank you," he added when I moved to take the plate of food way from him. "I was just kidding. You certainly are cranky in the morning."  
  
After a few cups of coffee, I began to feel better. "Does your mouth hurt?" I asked when he wiped his mouth and grimaced. "I have some Neosporin." His cheek looked scraped and bruised as well.  
  
After he had finished eating, I smoothed the salve gently onto his cheekbone, and his bottom lip, which was still cut and swollen. I couldn't help it; I ran my fingers through his hair, smoothing it down. Somehow it was wrong that it didn't look perfect.  
  
"Think you're my mum, now?" He smirked. But I saw a flash of pleasure in his eyes, as if he secretly enjoyed the attention.  
  
I was putting the dishes away in the cupboard, when I turned around, and saw his eyes flickering over my backside. "Are you looking at my butt?"  
  
"I'm not used to seeing girls in those short trousers," he told me. "Or those little shirts. We wear uniforms at school." He gazed at my bare legs, and I suddenly felt quite naked.  
  
"Well, I hope you're not checking me out," I told him. "You are kind of cute, but you're way too young for me."  
  
"What do you mean? I'm old enough." He wriggled his eyebrows, and a tiny, evil smile tugged at the corner of his lips.  
  
"You wish!"  
  
He sat back on the sofa, studying me further. "You're too skinny, though. And I don't like redheads." He said this last sentence in a disgusted tone of voice, as though he had loads of experiences with redheaded people and had disliked them all intensely.  
  
"Thanks. My natural hair color is blonde, for your information." I bit my lip. I don't know why I admitted that, like I should care what he thought.  
  
"Plus, you're a Muggle." He winced as if he had just remembered something that was a hundred times more distasteful than being a redhead. I got the impression that he was profoundly disappointed that I was a Muggle.  
  
For some reason, this irritated me more than his criticism about my appearance. "What is it with you and Americans?"  
  
"What? Americans? What do you mean?"  
  
"Well, isn't that what you mean by Muggles? That's kind of a rude name."  
  
He seemed to find this hilarious. He laughed so hard I thought he was going to fall off the sofa.  
  
"You are an obnoxious, little Brit," I told him.  
  
After a moment, he grinned. It was the first time I'd seen him with an expression on his face more pleasant than a sneer or a smirk, and I was forced to admit that he looked rather adorable. Damn.  
  
He picked a book off the stack of travel guides I had on my coffee table. It was a photo guide to New Orleans. "I wish I had some money," he said, thumbing through the pages. "Just to have a bit of fun. This is the first time I've been anywhere without him breathing down my neck."  
  
"All you have is foreign money, huh? Can I see it?"  
  
He reached into his pocket and dumped the contents out onto the table. There were two American dollar bills, an empty candy wrapper, his broken stick, a few silver coins, and a larger, gold one.  
  
The large coin shimmered brightly. In the light I could see a dragon embossed onto it, and the words, "Unum Galleon." "This is beautiful. Is this real gold?"  
  
"Of course."  
  
"Well, you don't need a bank," I said, returning the coins. "Just a jewelry store. There's a jeweler down the street who buys gold and silver. You probably have to be eighteen, though. They usually like to see an I.D."  
  
"Really?" Draco considered this. "You could go with me."  
  
"I thought you didn't like skinny, redheaded Muggles. Anyway, don't you think you should focus on finding your dad?"  
  
"He's going to be furious with me anyway when he finds me. I might as well have some fun. I'll find him much faster walking around the Quarter than I will sitting here in this flat."  
  
I couldn't argue with that. He sounded so miserable talking about his father, that I admit, I felt sorry for him. His father sounded like a control freak.  
  
Draco got $100.00 at the jewelry store for his coin. I took him on a tour on the trolley, and when it got too hot to run around, we went to the aquarium. We walked through all the horribly expensive shops at the Riverwalk market place. He was not impressed with the stories of ghosts and vampires in New Orleans, and thought that the ghost tours sounded boring. Wherever we went, however, we did not catch a glimpse of his father.  
  
"What does your dad look like?" I asked him, peering through the crowds of people.  
  
"You'll know him if you see him. He was using a cooling charm, for one thing, so he'll be the only person in this city not drenched with sweat." Draco wiped his face and sounded as though he envied him.  
  
"He's using a what?"  
  
Look." Draco stopped me on the side of the walkway. "Since you've helped me out so much, I'll give you some advice. My father can be dangerous when he's angry. He doesn't like Muggles. If we run into him today, it's best if you don't say anything to provoke him."  
  
"Really?"  
  
"Yeah, but don't worry about it too much. He'll be so furious with me, he probably won't even notice you."  
  
"That's comforting," I muttered. "What exactly do you mean when you say "dangerous?"  
  
Draco's face clouded over with a closed expression that I had also seen before. It said that he didn't want to talk about it.  
  
We ended the day walking around Jackson Square. I had always loved the excitement of the place, with the swarms of people, the jazz musicians, and the performers who painted themselves gold and pretended to be statues. There were tarot card readers, portrait artists and voodoo priestesses.  
  
I had to keep pulling Draco out of the voodoo shops. He loved looking at the statues of saints, the charms and the wax skulls. The uglier something was, the more he seemed to like it.  
  
For some bizarre reason, the shop owners acted a little spooked by him. One older lady at the last shop even hid in the back of the store and refused to come out until we left.  
  
"That lady acted very odd," I told Draco when we left the shop. "She looked terrified of you."  
  
"She probably just senses things about people."  
  
"But what would she sense about you?"  
  
Draco hesitated for a long time, as though he wasn't sure what to say. "She just knows about magic," He said in a quiet, thoughtful voice. "Especially dark magic. I didn't think that Muggles could sense things like that."  
  
"There's no such thing as magic," I told him. He was taking all this way too seriously, and I wasn't quite sure what he meant. "It's all just psychology. The curses and the voodoo dolls work because their victims believe they will."  
  
Draco just snickered at me. He had a very bad habit of doing that, and from time to time a look of smug superiority crossed his face.  
  
He looked tired but content as he munched on the powdered sugar doughnuts at the Café Du Monde and watched the people go by. A sunburn scorched his nose, which made his gray eyes stand out. "I don't want to go home," he muttered. "This is the closest thing to fun I'll have for the rest of the year."  
  
"You don't like school?" I asked.  
  
"I hate Harry bloody Potter!" He then went on a long tirade about this boy at school that he disliked intensely. He talked a little about his school in Scotland, but mostly about this arch nemesis. It was a little amusing. For much of the time, Draco acted older than he was. I suppose that came from being so wealthy and having social responsibilities. But from time to time his real age would show through and he'd act like a teenager.  
  
"I'll go get us some coffee, baby." I told him, standing up from the table.  
  
"Did you just call me baby?" He looked highly amused. "I think my grandmother is the only person who calls me that. She calls me her baby dragon."  
  
"People in New Orleans call each other that all the time," I said, blushing. "Don't take it personally. It's just a Southern thing."  
  
I turned and crashed right into someone. "Oh, no! I'm so sorry," I gasped. "Are you ..." I trailed off as the long-haired figure turned to face me, and I vaguely heard Draco's quick indrawn breath beside me.  
  
The man could only be Draco's father. The eyes that looked down at me were arctic and grey. He had clean, fine features that would have been handsome had they not been stamped with a sneer. He was quite tall and dressed much like Draco, with a black silk shirt, and he held a black and silver walking stick. Long, silver-gilt hair, perfectly in place, tied back at the nape of his neck with a black velvet ribbon. He glanced first at my clothing, and then that haughty gaze swept upward to encompass my face. The air that swirled around his body felt cool, like he had just stepped in from a frosty night.  
  
"Mr. Malfoy?" I asked.  
  
____________________________________________________________________  
  
Thank you to my reviewers!  
  
Escaped - Thank you so much for your compliments! I think that third person is so popular in fan fiction because writers like to change viewpoints and get into different characters' heads. First person is limited that way, and it can get boring. On the other hand, it's fun to know things that the main character doesn't. I will try to keep it interesting.  
  
Arsinoe3 and Ms. Potter-Thank you, description seems to be a strong point in my writing, but dialog isn't. Feel free to point out parts that might need improving. 


	3. Chapter Three

Chapter Three  
  
"Good evening, Father," Draco said, standing.  
  
"Good evening, indeed!" His father bit off the words and glared at him. Mr. Malfoy pushed Draco back down into the chair, and he began snarling and biting out his words, his face rigid with fury. He was quite frightening. I wasn't sure what to do, but I knew I just couldn't leave Draco there without saying anything. I walked over to the waiter who carried the trays of coffee. I couldn't hear what Draco had to say, but I could hear a few of Mr. Malfoy's words over the chattering of the customers, "Disgrace to the Malfoy name," and "Wasting my time," and "Little Muggle whore."  
  
I was almost to the table with the coffee before I realized he had been talking about me. My face flushed with embarrassment and anger.  
  
"How nice to know that Draco found someone to attend to his needs," Draco's father sneered at me. His tone made it clear that he was not referring to food or shelter.  
  
I was so shocked, that my mouth fell open and I gasped for breath. Draco's eyes widened slightly. I remembered his earlier warning, but the words felt like they were being ripped from my throat. "Who the hell do you-"  
  
"Father," Draco said quickly, no doubt trying to placate his father's anger. "This is Miriel Laveau. Weren't you looking for someone named Laveau?"  
  
His father's manner changed instantly. "Miss Laveau, I'm terribly sorry that I've offended you. I'm afraid I can say distasteful thing when I'm angry. My fear for my son's safety has upset me terribly. I've been sick with worry about him, and I haven't slept. Please sit and let me thank you properly for looking after him."  
  
I hesitated and shifted uneasily. I could feel the heat slowly drain away from my face. "No thanks are necessary, Mr. Malfoy."  
  
"But you've been so kind as to befriend my son." He indicated the chair next to him with an elegant wave of his hand.  
  
I sat down nervously.  
  
Against his chair Mr. Malfoy had propped up a black and silver walking stick. A curious thing, but one can find such items all over the little shops and markets in New Orleans. The French market, particularly, was a market filled with booths of interesting things that you probably wouldn't be able to find anywhere else. I studied the walking stick more closely, and realized the handle was in the form of a silver viper's head. Its mouth was open, and its fangs were bared. It was very detailed and even its eyes glittered realistically.  
  
Mr. Malfoy gripped the staff in his hand. "I see you've noticed my staff. It's excellent workmanship, isn't it? I enjoy collecting interesting antiques and artwork. It's partially what brought me here to your beautiful city." He moved the staff over to the other side of him, as though he didn't want me touching it.  
  
"Miss Laveau, I'm looking for an old friend of mine. Perhaps you know her? Miranda Laveau. She dealt sometimes with antique mirrors. Her true name of course, is Silverthorn, but she's evidently used this alias for years. Are you all right, my dear? You look rather pale." He sipped his coffee, as though it was no big deal to just tell me that my last name for the last 19 years had been a false one.  
  
"She, um, was my mother." I managed to choke out. "But maybe you're confusing her with someone else. My mother's name was Laveau. Why would she have used a different one?"  
  
I glanced over at Draco, and he looked surprised. His leg startled, and it caught the ebony staff, knocking it over to the concrete floor.  
  
Mr. Malfoy glanced at him with annoyance.  
  
"Sorry, Father." Draco muttered, picking it up and handing it to him.  
  
Mr. Malfoy returned his attention to me. "Was?"  
  
To my horror, my eyes filled with tears. "Excuse me," I whispered, and bolted for the restroom. It was amazing how grief still snuck up on me at the most unfortunate times. Once inside, I splashed cold water on my face. "Get a grip," I hissed to myself. This man was unnerving me. I just wanted to leave out the back door of the café and not come back, but I had to admit that by this time I was too curious to do so.  
  
When I returned to the table, Mr. Malfoy's eyes were filled with warmth and concern. "How clumsy of me to bring up something that is so obviously painful for you. I'm afraid I've upset you quite badly. I wouldn't be asking about her, however, if it wasn't important. I've gotten you some fresh coffee, as the other had grown cold. Please tell me, how did poor Miranda die?"  
  
"I don't wish to talk about it."  
  
"I understand. Please drink some coffee. You do look quite tired."  
  
"Why have you been looking for her?"  
  
"She was an old friend of mine from school. She always had a charming habit of collecting antique mirrors. I heard she could even make them. I'm interested in such mirrors. An associate of mine found this at the French market, which I believe is very close by." In his hand was a hand mirror, made of sterling silver. It was decorated in a style that was much like art nouveau, with long, flowing vines and flowers.  
  
"I recognize it. But how did you know it belonged to her?"  
  
"Would you have any more of these mirrors in your possession?" His smile was quite charming, but there was a predatory glint behind his eyes.  
  
"I have a few of her belongings at my apartment, Mr. Malfoy, but I'm not interested in selling them. I'd like to keep them for sentimental reasons. Her lawyer had to sell most of her inventory of antiques to pay off the bills she and her, um, boyfriend left when she died."  
  
His smile faltered, and a pale eyebrow arched. "Her boyfriend, you say? How interesting. Please tell me more about this person."  
  
I squirmed uncomfortably. "I don't really want to talk about him, Mr. Malfoy. He's not worth talking about." I finally picked up my cup and sipped the thick, creamy coffee. Warmth spread through me, trailing hotly to my stomach. It set me at ease, and in a short time dulled the throbbing headache behind my eyes. I suddenly noticed how quiet it was, compared to the usual rush of people at the café in the evening. For the first time I looked around, noticing that we were alone in the corner of the café. People actually appeared to be avoiding our table. Even the waiters began to make their way towards our table, only to change their minds for no apparent reason and walk away. Nobody was close enough to overhear us.  
  
Puzzled, I looked at Mr. Malfoy, and found his eyes upon me intently. "Do I make you uncomfortable, Miss Silverthorn?"  
  
I was about to tell him not to call me that, but something stopped me. I felt the unquenchable urge to tell him my true feelings, felt that I could in fact trust him. I considered his shirt buttons, which I suddenly realized were in the shape of tiny, silver snakes.  
  
"I...yes. Yes you do. I think you're quite dangerous." I said. My voice sounded unfamiliar and vacant in my ears, and as soon as the words left me, I regretted them. I looked down into my cup. I glanced over at Draco, and he watched me with a kind of stunned fascination.  
  
Mr. Malfoy continued. "And tell me, who is Miranda Laveau to you?"  
  
"I've already told you that. She was my mother." The words slipped out.  
  
"And how exactly did she die?"  
  
I fought, I clenched my fingers on the coffee cup, I tightened the muscles in my neck, but once again the desire to reveal the truth overwhelmed me. "She died of a drug overdose almost a year ago. I think her boyfriend gave them to her. He was a bastard, and he used to hit her. He became her partner in the antique shop, and then he ran it into the ground."  
  
"How dreadful for you." Although his words were polite, Mr. Malfoy's eyes were as cold and gray as ice in shadow. "Miss Silverthorn, please tell me, why did your mother become a traitor?"  
  
"I'm sorry, I don't understand."  
  
He bit the question out harder. "Why did she leave the service of Tom Riddle? Why did she leave my brother?"  
  
"I don't know. I don't know what you're talking about."  
  
His eyes narrowed as he sat there, as though considering what next he should ask.  
  
"Do you know that you are a witch, Miss Silverthorn?"  
  
"No. I'm not."  
  
"Don't you have any special... powers? Abilities? Do strange things happen when you become angry or frightened?"  
  
"No." I whispered. "I have a memory, of when I was little, of making mirrors break, but I think it might just have been dreams I've had." I had never told anyone that before. I even tried to avoid thinking about it. Mr. Malfoy's face wavered in front of me for a moment, blurring and then straightening once again. I tried to stand. "You drugged me." I whispered. I briefly thought of the date rape drug. There was nothing he could do to me in the middle of a public cafe, was there?  
  
I stumbled, and felt a fierce grip digging into my arm. "It's only a form of viriteserum," Mr. Malfoy's voice floated across to me, as from a far distance. "A truth potion. Unfortunately, it seems to be making you quite sleepy." 


	4. Chapter Four

Chapter Four  
  
"I am never drinking coffee again," was my first waking thought. Bastard. That bastard had drugged me. I rolled over onto my side, waiting for the dizziness and nausea to subside. I ran my hands over my body. I was still fully clothed. That was a good thing. I was sprawled out on my bed, as if someone had dumped me there. My bedroom was a mess. The closet doors were open, and all the storage boxes had been flung about. The vanity next to my bed had been searched, the drawers pulled out and piles of my bright, silky underwear were dumped on the floor. Ugh. That man had touched my panties! I sat up and caught a glimpse of my face in the vanity mirror. It was pale, and my eyes were wide and confused.  
  
Something fell in the living room, and I heard Mr. Malfoy cursing loudly. I panicked. My thoughts raced wildly. Damn. My phone had been disconnected since I couldn't pay the bill. The bathroom window wasn't large enough for me to crawl out of. Was there anything I could use as a weapon?  
  
Next to my closet door, Mr. Malfoy's black and silver staff was propped up against the wall.  
  
I had seen sticks similar to this in the French market with sharp sword blades hidden inside them. I tugged on the silver snake's head, but to my puzzlement, I pulled out a black stick, not much longer than a chop stick. It was carved with tiny intricate designs. "What the-"  
  
A hand grabbed my wrist hard from behind me. I jumped. "What the bloody hell are you doing?" Mr. Malfoy snarled.  
  
He grabbed the pieces of the staff away from me. He looked at me and his stick. "You should not have been able to touch that." He looked at my hands. "The viper's head should have bitten you. Its venom is lethal, and there is no antidote."  
  
This man was insane. "Draco touched it," I told him, rubbing my wrist. "At the café."  
  
"My wand is protected by a blood charm, to prevent enemies from taking it and using it against me. Only someone with Malfoy blood could touch it and survive." He stared at me for a moment, before something like horror or recognition dawned on his face. "How old are you?"  
  
"I'm nineteen. Next week."  
  
"Older than I thought." He stalked toward me. I retreated, but he pushed me down into the chair facing the vanity mirror. Standing behind me, he wrapped his arm across the base of my throat to keep me seated. His breath was hot against my neck. He smelled like expensive cologne, soap and coffee. His hair had shaken loose from the hair-tie and it drifted across my neck like pale silk. I started to panic, but he gripped my jaw with his other hand. He stared at my face in the mirror.  
  
"Let me go!" I tried to sound demanding, but it came out more like a breathy squeak. "You're hurting me."  
  
"You have the most gorgeous eyes," he finally drawled against my cheek. "All witches should have green eyes. They remind me of someone. How odd that I didn't see it before. Perhaps I was distracted-"he gingerly pulled up my long braid and sneered at it. "By your hair."  
  
"This isn't my natural hair color," I whispered, still gazing into the mirror. "It's a hair rinse." Honestly, everyone was a hair critic.  
  
He tapped my head with his stick, and muttered something. I gasped. My hair was back to its original color. It wasn't silver-blonde, but rather a dark, golden color with buttery highlights.  
  
"Well," he muttered, as if to himself. "This does explain a lot."  
  
He waved the black stick toward me, and then toward the mirror. "Revelo imago Paternus," he said.  
  
The surface of the mirror rippled with silver light. Our images in the glass faded away, and instead I saw a man. He reminded me a little of Mr. Malfoy, but he had the same dark, golden hair, high cheekbones and green eyes that I did. He was quite handsome, but did not look happy. There wasn't a hint of cruelty in his face; rather, he looked trapped and desperate.  
  
I tried to turn my head toward Mr. Malfoy, not quite believing what was happening. "How did you do that?"  
  
"Mirror magic. I've always been fascinated with it. It's quite useful."  
  
"Is that my father?"  
  
"Yes, my dear," Mr. Malfoy said. "Your mother Miranda was my half- brother's mistress."  
  
I swallowed. "Where is he now?"  
  
"My brother, Gaius Malfoy, was a Death Eater, a servant of the Dark Lord. Although the Dark Lord did not make your mother a Death Eater, he forced her into serving him. She was a mirror-mage, a witch who was quite skilled at creating enchanted mirrors. Gaius was responsible for her. I'm afraid that when Gaius allowed Miranda to escape, he paid for it with his life. None of us realized she was pregnant when she disappeared, of course, and if Gaius knew he told no one. It was a few years before Draco and that Potter boy were born, before Potter vanquished the Dark Lord." Emotions flashed in his eyes, regret, thoughtfulness, and finally, his eyes narrowed as if he was rapidly calculating something in his mind. He looked at me as if I was something expensive he was considering to purchase.  
  
"We're leaving," He announced.  
  
"Leaving? Where? I can't just go."  
  
"You can't possibly want to stay here?" He stood and looked around my room with disgust. "How revolting that a pureblood witch, with pure, Malfoy blood, should be living like a Muggle. Like a street urchin."  
  
That was going too far. "Hey, I have a job."  
  
"Serving like a house elf!" Now he looked like he was really going to be sick. "Yes, Draco told me all about it." He turned toward me, and for a strange instant his silver eyes seemed to see inside of me, to my most secret thoughts. "Miss Silverthorn, What do you have to stay here for?"  
  
My heart pounded. I had a strange, detached feeling, like everything was surreal or I was in a dream. I was filled with conflicting emotions. I felt a plunge of disappointment that I would never meet my father. I hated my life here, hated being poor and working all the time to pay the utilities and car insurance and eat. I hated feeling alone after my mother's death, of not knowing where I belonged anymore. I was afraid of this man, but I was also intensely curious. My mind swirled with questions. Who was this Dark Lord? What Mr. Malfoy had done with his wand was amazing. I touched my braid, looking at the color again. A chant went through my mind. "Was that magic? That can't be magic. Magic doesn't exist. Magic..."  
  
I realized that Draco was standing in the doorway to my room, staring at me. "Father, is Miriel my cousin?"  
  
"What?" Mr. Malfoy looked surprised, as though he had just realized something significant. "Yes, a half-cousin, I suppose." He shot his son a sharp glance. "We will discuss this privately at a later time, Draco."  
  
Draco gave me an evaluating look, and a smile slid across his face. It was quite pleased and a little smug at the same time, as though he knew something very important that I did not. That kind of smile made me feel rather uncomfortable.  
  
"Well?" Mr. Malfoy arched his eyebrows at his son.  
  
"I didn't find any other mirrors, Father."  
  
Mr. Malfoy held up the small silver hand mirrors he had obviously found in my closet. "Are these all the mirrors you possess, Miss Silverthorn?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
His lips tightened with impatience. "But these are worthless. These are just Muggle mirrors."  
  
"What else would they be?"  
  
"Have you not been listening to a word I've said? Magical mirrors. Mirrors of power, like the one found at the French market. Mirrors that would actually be useful." He sighed with disappointment. "Your mother's skill at creating magical mirrors was legendary. I expected to find something more."  
  
"Sorry," I muttered sarcastically. "I still want them." I was beginning to realize what the word "Muggle" actually meant. Coming from Mr. Malfoy, it sounded like a curse word. No wonder Draco had laughed at me when I thought the word meant "American."  
  
Mr. Malfoy pushed the mirrors at me. "Grab whatever else you might possibly want to take with you." The look on his face implied that there wasn't anything in my apartment worth taking. "I don't have time to dawdle."  
  
I glanced around the room. I didn't have a lot of belongings, but I was quite attached to my books. I grabbed a small suitcase and stuffed a few clothes into it, some toiletries and a few books as well.  
  
"What about my mother's chest?" I asked Mr. Malfoy. "I can't just leave that behind!" It was a beautiful cedar chest, full of my mother's belongings, photo albums, and a set of my favorite books she had bought me.  
  
Mr. Malfoy pointed his wand at it and said, "Reducio." The chest shrunk to the size of Barbie furniture. He placed it inside the bag.  
  
I swayed and sat down on the bed. I felt dizzy, and a wave of weariness swept over me. I didn't know if it was the shock of it all, or that drug Mr. Malfoy had put into my coffee, but I really needed to lie down. Mr. Malfoy's voice drifted toward me as if from a distance.  
  
"Draco, I can't apparate with both of you. Intercontinental apparating is quite draining as it is."  
  
"I can do it myself, Father. I-"  
  
"Don't be ridiculous," Mr. Malfoy snapped. "You'd end up splinching yourself. Do you want your mother and me to find your body parts splashing about in the Atlantic Ocean?"  
  
Draco grimaced. "No, Sir."  
  
"Take this." Mr. Malfoy shoved my suitcase at him. "I will return for you after I'm finished with her. Do you understand me? Do not leave this flat. Do not wander off and get lost again."  
  
"Yes, Father."  
  
"What are we doing?" I asked as Mr. Malfoy pulled me to my feet.  
  
"We're going to my family home in Wiltshire. We can't apparate directly on the grounds because of the spells protecting it, but we can arrive nearby and then floo there."  
  
"What..."  
  
The next thing I knew, Mr. Malfoy was holding me tightly against him. He held his viper's head wand in his hand, and with one word, the world began to spin around and faded to black.  
  
_______________________________________________________________________  
  
Thank you to all my reviewers! Thanks for the kind words and compliments. I didn't realize that writing fan fiction would be so fun! Please let me know if there's anything boring or needs improving in my story. By the way, it's the end of school and I HAVE to focus on my Master's thesis and website project, so don't panic if I don't update in the next few days. Thanks again!  
  
Escaped- You know that I could never be as "twisty" a writer as you! ( Those little evil twists are your specialty...  
  
Rycca Wolfbane- Sorry I made you homesick. I'm homesick for New Orleans, too, and I've never even lived there. After I graduate, I plan to move to New Orleans and get a cushy job writing HP fan fiction ( I wish!!!  
  
Chocoliciouz- I'm sorry you're confused. I will try to write things more clearly in the future. 


	5. Chapter Five

Chapter Five  
  
"Twinky is here to serve you, Miss. Miss?" A high, squeaky voice woke me. "Would you like breakfast?"  
  
I lifted my head to find a hideous, pointed face with huge eyes the size of tea cups. It had brown skin that was wrinkled and creased like an old paper bag. Its body was covered in old rags. I screamed. I heard a shattering sound, like glass breaking. The creature jumped back and started a high pitch squeaking that hurt my ears.  
  
Mr. Malfoy stalked into the room, wearing black, velvet robes. "Get out!" He snarled at the creature. He raised his walking stick above the creature's head, but the creature squeaked and vanished into thin air!  
  
He sat next to me on the side of the bed. "I'm terribly sorry, my dear. I regret that you were frightened." When I panted so hard I couldn't answer, he held my hand and stroked my shoulder. His voice was as smooth and soothing as warm oil. "My dear, you're shaking. It's only a house servant. Yes, I know, they're dreadfully ugly, but quite harmless. I wish there were some way we could improve their appearance, but as of now we must endure it."  
  
I wasn't sure which was more disturbing, Mr. Malfoy snarling with anger, or attempting to be nice. "What happened?" My throat was so tight I had to force the words out. The previous night seemed like a hazy, bizarre dream. I had been vaguely aware of being pushed through a fireplace of some kind, and being surrounded by green flames.  
  
"You were a little woozy when we arrived. It must have been a residual effect of the veritaserum. It did not seem to agree with you at all. I apologize about the truth potion. I hope you understand that it had to be done." Mr. Malfoy appeared much more relaxed now, and there was actually warmth in his silvery eyes that hadn't been there previously. "I realize I needed to prepare you much more about coming here. The last few days have been most stressful." He did look quite exhausted, and there were faint violet circles under his eyes. "I'm afraid that you were a bit of a surprise. A good one," he added hastily, "now that I've had a bit of time to consider it. I'm afraid that I was not very patient with you, and I am profoundly sorry."  
  
During his little speech, my eyes wandered around the room. It was huge, at least three times larger than my entire apartment had been! It was furnished as though I had traveled back a few centuries to a magical version of England. Big, bay windows accented with stained glass let in a glow of dim, morning light. Antique dressers, bookcases and tables gleamed with polish. The bed I sat on was enormous, covered by a bedspread of deep, green satin with a big silvery "M" in the middle of it. Above me, the ceiling looked like a night sky, with constellations of glittering stars and a crescent moon hung in the corner. Tiny meteors shot across the ceiling. My eyes caught a portrait on the wall and...Oh my God; the people in the painting were moving and pointing at me!  
  
"Are you listening, Miriel?" His hand grazed my back, a concerned look on his face. "You seem a bit dazed."  
  
"How long have I been asleep?" I said slowly.  
  
"Not long. It's already morning, because of the time difference, of course. I do have an anti apparition-lag potion if you like. No? I understand. I hope the place is suitable for you? It's one of Draco's extra rooms. When he was small he enchanted the ceiling to show off the Draco constellation. He was quite a precocious boy. That door opens to the courtyard garden, and I thought you might like that."  
  
My eyes caught a huge mirror on the wall that had been shattered. "What happened to the mirror? Did I, um, do that?" Distant memories of my childhood were coming back to me.  
  
"No problem, my dear. It's easily taken care of." He waved his wand and said "Speculum reparo." All the slivers of shiny glass on the floor flew back into the frame and became solid again.  
  
"That's amazing." I tried to keep my mouth from gaping open. "Everything's amazing."  
  
He chuckled. "Well, no doubt such things will become old to you in no time. You had a containment spell placed on you, no doubt since you were small."  
  
"A containment spell?"  
  
"Yes, to prevent your powers from causing things to happen when you were angry or frightened. Your mother must have placed it on you. No doubt it helped to disguise your identity these long years. I took the liberty of removing it. It would be impossible for you to learn to use your powers in any way with the charm in tact."  
  
"You mean, I'm really a witch? I can do... magic?"  
  
"When you're trained up a bit. Both the Malfoys and the Silverthorns have been extremely powerful, pureblooded wizarding families. You have much potential." He sounded quite pleased with this. "I know you have a lot of questions. We'll talk more later when you've freshened up. Are you hungry?"  
  
"I couldn't eat anything right now if my life depended on it."  
  
"Well, why don't you relax a bit and wash up. The bathroom has been enchanted to reflect the tastes and needs of the person using it, so you should find whatever you need. I'll be back in a short time."  
  
The bathroom looked like it belonged in one of the wealthy homes I had admired in the New Orleans Garden District, only this one had an enormous sunken tub. It included fluffy towels monogrammed with my initials, and baskets of soaps. The room must have picked up that I was terribly vain about my hair, because on the counter I found beautiful brushes made from wood and natural bristles, gold and silver hair sticks, crystal hair combs, shampoos, conditioners, and hair ornaments. Everything was much finer and more expensive than I'd ever seen before. When I opened a crystal bottle, a sweet, flowery smell filled the air. It was the most heavenly thing I'd ever smelled.  
  
"Mmmm...Is this perfume?" I asked myself.  
  
"It's a mixture of orange blossom, chamomile and vanilla oil," a voice said. Just brush a few drops into your hair to smooth it down and make it shine, dearie, or you could use it as bath oil. The scents are supposed to be very soothing for the nerves. Just take a little time for yourself; you do look a little frazzled."  
  
"Cool. Wizard aromatherapy. Wait!" I looked around the bathroom. "Who said that?"  
  
"Over here. Against the wall." The only thing against the wall was a beautiful, full length mirror made of polished oak. A woman's face was carved into the top of the frame.  
  
"You're a mirror and you're talking to me," I said, wide eyed.  
  
"Yes, I recognize you." The mirror's voice rose with excitement. "You're a mirror-mage."  
  
"I am? You mean, I could create magical mirrors? Like my mom?"  
  
"Goodness, yes. Your family is famous. Your grandfather Sebastian Silverthorn created the mirror of Erised and the mirror of Emit among other things. He was quite close friends with Albus Dumbledore. All of us enchanted mirrors would recognize you. Of course, the wizard who enchants bathroom mirrors doesn't have to be very skillful. We don't do much, you know, but offer advice on your appearance."  
  
"I'm sure you do a wonderful job," I said, wondering if I was really and truly crazy for trying to encourage an inanimate object. I tried to smile at the mirror, but it came out more like a grimace.  
  
"You do look a little nerve-wracked, dearie, why don't you try a nice, warm bath?"  
  
I found my suitcase near the bathroom door. I felt much better after washing up, and put on a clean pair of jeans and a tank top. I brushed out my waist length hair and decided to leave it down. Before I left, I stood in front of the mirror once again. "You, um, wouldn't happen to know exactly why Mr. Malfoy brought me here, do you? He's acting awfully nice."  
  
"The Malfoys respect two things as much as wealth, dearie, and those are power and good breeding. Thank the gods that you aren't a Muggle or a Squib, or you would not be alive right now."  
  
I shuddered.  
  
"Just a bit of advice, Miss Silverthorn," The mirror continued. "Don't cross the Malfoys. They're the worse sort of dark wizards. Don't do anything foolish, like try to escape. Just go along with them. If they're nice, accept it graciously. You'll find out what they want from you soon enough. Oh, and another thing-"  
  
I stepped closer to the glass.  
  
"It won't do for you to go poking about Malfoy Manor too much. There are cursed and dangerous items hidden around here, and believe me, you don't want to find any of them."  
  
I remembered, then, what Draco had told me outside the voodoo shop. Hadn't he mentioned dark magic? When Mr. Malfoy came to my door a little later, I stared at him. Even though he was dressed in black silk and velvet, he didn't exactly look like my idea of a dark wizard. I had always imagined the dark wizards in the books I'd read as being, well, old and ugly.  
  
"Come along, my dear. I won't bite." A smile tugged the corner of his mouth, and he guided me down the hallway. Soon a woman in ice-blue robes seemed to float gracefully toward us.  
  
"Ah, my lovely wife approaches," Lucius told me. "Narcissa dear, I would like you to meet Miriel Silverthorn."  
  
The woman was almost too beautiful and perfect to be real. Her blonde hair swept elegantly back from a face that could have been carved from alabaster. Her eyes were cold, but her voice was low and melodious. "Gaius' daughter, who would have thought? How charming. And you have such beautiful hair." Her eyes then fell to my clothes, and she actually flinched. She wrinkled her nose a bit as if she had just smelled something bad. In a second, though, the gracious smile was fixed back on her face. "I appreciate your kindness to my son. I shudder to think of him alone in a Muggle city, defenseless, without his wand. And those filthy Muggles who had the gall to attack him like that! I'm certain he must have been terrified. I'm glad that someone was there to look after him." She shot Lucius a hard look.  
  
Lucius' lips tightened. "The boy is sixteen. I was attempting to give him the chance to demonstrate some kind of responsibility, but obviously..."  
  
"We'll discuss this later, Lucius. I'm sure that our guest would like her stay here to be pleasant." Narcissa turned toward me. "I can't tell you how pleased I am that Lucius found you, Miriel. I can't bear the thought of you living like that, believing yourself to be a Muggle. It sounds like some horrible novel."  
  
"It was kind of a weird coincidence that I ran into Draco at the café like that," I told her. "I didn't know that Mr. Malfoy was looking for my mother."  
  
Narcissa nodded. "Well, part of that may have been the attraction spell that my husband cast on both of them before they left England. It should have attracted anyone in the near vicinity who knew Miranda to them. Those kinds of spells can work in unforeseen ways."  
  
"Where is Draco?" Lucius asked. "I was hoping that he might show Miriel around the Manor."  
  
"I gave him permission to floo to Ollivander's to replace his wand."  
  
"Are you sure that was wise?" Lucius asked a bit sarcastically. "He might get lost."  
  
"He promised to be back immediately when he was finished," Narcissa told him. "That wand needed replacing anyway. He was already beginning to outgrow it."  
  
"I didn't realize that." Lucius relaxed, and his face lit up with a small, proud smile. "He's rather young for that to be happening."  
  
"Excuse me," I said. "How does somebody outgrow a wand?"  
  
"That means that Draco's magical potential has increased, and his wand could no longer handle the extra magical flow," Narcissa told me, a note of pride in her voice. "When that happens, it causes the person who owns the wand to require much more concentration than usual for any kind of magic to be performed. Draco had been having problems with his last wand at school. When he attempted to hex that Muggle studies professor at Hogwarts, the best he could do was to inflict a mild case of boils. This phenomenon is very rare and only occurs among wizards who are very magically powerful."  
  
"Why was I not informed about this before now?" Lucius asked. "A faulty wand could have been dangerous."  
  
"You were preoccupied with other matters." Narcissa glanced at me.  
  
"Yes, well," Lucius cleared his throat and offered his arm to me. "I guess I have the honor of being your tour guide for today."  
  
**********************************************************************  
  
Thanks to all my reviewers! Thanks to Chocoliciouz, Merryday and Escaped!  
  
Escaped: Thank you so much for all your kind words. Really. They mean so much to me. I didn't have the emotional support I needed to finish school when I was younger, and that's why it's taken me until my 30's to finish. I'm glad you like my characterization of Lucius and Draco. I've been trying hard to make them seem well rounded and "real," unlike many stories where they're just pure evil all the time. 


	6. Chapter Six

Author's Notes: You know that Lucius can't be seemingly nice for too long (he'd probably implode!) Don't worry, Draco will have his chance at being a brat, too.  
  
The reference to Draco's British Muggle literature homework is, of course, the novel "The Lord of the Rings" by J.R.R. Tolkien. Sorry. I couldn't resist.  
  
The tradition that wealthy English families used to marry cousins to keep wealth and land in the family is true and came from my British Literature class. I see the Malfoys as being traditional and extremely old-fashioned.  
  
Please review and tell me what you think!  
  
***********************************************************************  
  
Chapter Six  
  
Malfoy Manor was originally built as a castle, and the stone used had been magically turned white, with tiny flakes of gold that ran through it so that the castle walls shimmered in direct sunlight. It had been magically and mundanely added to and renovated many times. It was a strange mixture of the archaic, such as the dungeons, and the modern, such as the swimming pool and hot tubs. There were seven levels of rooms that seemed to go on forever. Every room was enchanted in some way, or was filled with magical items that the Malfoys had collected on their many travels. To my relief, I didn't see anything that looked remotely cursed or dangerous. Mrs. Malfoy loved giving parties, and she threw many banquets, baby showers, charity balls for St. Mungo's hospital and holiday gatherings here.  
  
As Mr. Malfoy guided me through the castle, he lectured me about his family's history. He told me more about my father and mother. He explained how pureblood wizarding families were practically dying out. Wizards and witches without the taint of Muggle blood were becoming harder and harder to find, and it was critical to guard our pureblood heritage.  
  
"If that isn't bad enough, some of the pureblood families are "blood traitors" like those wretched Weasleys, who insist on fraternizing with scum." Mr. Malfoy bit out. "Are you listening to me, Miriel?"  
  
"Mmm hmm." I murmured dreamily. "Scum." I felt like I was back in school, listening to a very long-winded teacher. I was suffering from information overload.  
  
Among English Wizards and Muggles alike, an old tradition was that wealthy families kept their land, wealth and power within their own bloodlines by marrying cousins, and this had become even more important to pureblood wizards during these difficult times. Mr. Malfoy had many distant cousins, but only a few were girls and much too young for Draco. It had become almost impossible to find anyone suitable for Draco to marry. By then we were strolling in the courtyard garden. The noon sun was warm on my shoulders, the rich scent of roses and fruit hung heavily on the air, and even though I nodded sleepily to what he said, I was only paying half attention.  
  
I stubbed my foot on something in a clump of grass. I thought my foot had struck a rock, but to my surprise, whatever it was squealed. A little creature ran out into the open. It was small and leathery looking, with a knobby, bald head exactly like a potato.  
  
"Meanie! Meanie!" The little potato-thing squealed. It tried to kick my ankle.  
  
"Mr. Malfoy, what is that?"  
  
"Oh, how disgusting. How did that get in here? It's a garden gnome, my dear. Don't touch it, they have nasty teeth. Dinky!" He bellowed at one of the house elves, who had been pulling up weeds. "De-gnome this garden at once. Strengthen the gnome-repellent spells around the garden. Honestly, some days these house elves are just worthless." The elves ran to chase the gnome, and we continued walking.  
  
Before he started lecturing again, I decided to ask the question that had been nagging me throughout the day. "Mr. Malfoy, how long were you planning on having me stay here?"  
  
"That depends on you, my dear. I wanted you to visit so you could see the possibilities you have. You are, of course, free to leave at any time. I'll gladly take you back to New Orleans if you wish, but I think that would be a mistake. I can offer you more options for your life than living like that. You can't even begin to imagine the power and ability you could possess. The wizarding world can be a most marvelous place, but it can also be cruel and treacherous." Mr. Malfoy's voice seemed to purr and curl around me, and I found myself mesmerized. He stopped walking, and he took my hand in his. "Never forget this, Miriel, knowledge and power are most important in the wizarding world. I can help you to obtain both." His hand grazed my cheek, and as he looked down at me, his silvery eyes were filled with mystery and promise.  
  
Suddenly the air was filled with a trill of beautiful music. It rippled on the air like liquid gold that was filled with light and warmth. A huge, red bird floated over the trees like a living flame with its wings stretched out for several feet. It carried what looked like an envelope in its beak. Before I could speak the bird swooped down and landed on my shoulder. It was so heavy I felt myself lurch sideways, and had to hold up my arm so it would have room.  
  
"What's it doing?" I cried. I was too afraid to move.  
  
Mr. Malfoy snarled and lunged at the bird. The bird hopped onto my head, its claws digging painfully into my scalp.  
  
"Stop, you're scaring it!" I backed up hastily.  
  
"Stand still!" Mr. Malfoy reached up and after an intense struggle, ripped the envelope out of the bird's beak. "Ouch! Damned bird." When he withdrew his hand, it was dripping blood where the bird had bitten him. He immediately opened the envelope, and swiftly scanned the letter inside. "That meddlesome, senile old fool. Why can't he just mind his own bloody business?"  
  
I caught a glimpse of my name written in green ink on the front of the envelope. "Hey, that letter's for me." Who in the world would be writing me a letter, and sending it like this?  
  
Mr. Malfoy just sneered at me and stalked off, crushing the letter in his fist. That left me alone with the bird. Its weight shifted on top of my head.  
  
"You're not going to poop on me, are you?" I asked it nervously. The bird flew off my head and landed on a nearby tree branch. It trilled and looked at me reproachfully, as if it could understand exactly what I said. I realized that such a beautiful and obviously magical creature would never do such a thing. After a few moments, it flew off.  
  
"It is lunch time, Missy." A house elf came and ushered me inside to a well-lit circular dining room that was wallpapered with English roses. After a moment Draco strode into the room and sat at the table next to me. He seemed much more confident than he had in New Orleans, if such a thing were possible. The sunburn that had scorched his creamy skin was gone. The cuts and bruises on his faces had completely healed. He wore robes of deep, midnight blue that swirled around his legs. They showed off his luminous coloring well, and I must admit that I suddenly found myself a little shy.  
  
"You're, um, looking much better." I tried not to cringe at how lame that sounded.  
  
"You're looking much better to me, too, now that you're a witch and no longer a pathetic, unworthy Muggle." He smirked, his eyes flickering over me. To my surprise, he lifted my hand and kissed the back of it.  
  
I was surprised at the jolt of pleasure that raced down my spine, and I could feel my cheeks grow hot. "This place is amazing," I finally said. "It's the strangest and most beautiful castle I've ever seen. Not that I've seen many, of course. No wonder you're so spoiled."  
  
A strange half smile caught the corner of his mouth. He glanced around him. Mr. Malfoy was busy in the hall going through a pile of mail that had been waiting for him. "Well, you need to know that nothing's free with my father," he told me. "Everything has to be paid for, sooner or later."  
  
"What do you mean by that?"  
  
He shook his head as his father entered the room. "Nothing."  
  
"I cannot believe this!" Mr. Malfoy snarled as he held up a letter. "This day is just getting worse. The Department of American Magic in New Orleans is attempting to fine me! The owl came this morning."  
  
"What is it about, Dear?" Mrs. Malfoy asked, seating herself at the table.  
  
"It's a ridiculous story. Something to do with selling a Galleon to a Muggle jeweler. They claim that instead of melting it down, the idiot tried to find out what country it came from. He asked questions all over the city, and the D.A.M. had to obliviate him. As if I'd sell anything to a Muggle. American stupidity. I'd like to see them fine me!" He sat down with a huff.  
  
Draco and I looked at each other.  
  
"Can I have my letter?" I asked Mr. Malfoy. It probably wasn't a good time to ask, but I was dying of curiosity. How in the world did the sender of the letter even know who I was, or even that I was here?  
  
Mr. Malfoy didn't even look at me. "No."  
  
Draco looked at me quizzically, and I told him about the flame colored bird that had tried to deliver a letter to me.  
  
"Professor Dumbledore has a Phoenix in his office, but he usually only uses owls," Draco told me. "Was it a Hogwarts letter, Father? Already? She just got here."  
  
"That phoenix," Mr. Malfoy said through gritted teeth, "Was a warning to me. He only uses that bird to deliver letters of utmost importance. It means that he already considers Miriel to be important to him." He shot me a glare. "You will never attend that infernal school. I won't have your mind poisoned by that ridiculous old man."  
  
Draco looked profoundly disappointed. "But Father, there's a story at school that when Potter's Muggle relatives tried to prevent him from getting his Hogwarts letter, they were harassed by flocks of owls until they were nearly driven mad."  
  
"We are wizards, Draco, and we can set the wards around the Manor to prevent that sort of thing!" Mr. Malfoy snapped at Draco as if he were a complete idiot. Honestly, I thought he was going to have a coronary if he didn't calm down.  
  
The house elves served lunch on porcelain dishes rimmed with gold. Even the eating utensils were made of gold! There was something they called Yorkshire pudding, which was strange because it wasn't pudding at all. The tea they served was very strong and hot and flavored with flowers. It wasn't as potent as New Orleans coffee, but it tasted pretty good after I dumped cream and sugar into it. I was aware of Mrs. Malfoy's cold, blue eyes on me, and it seemed that she was carefully watching my table manners.  
  
Mrs. Malfoy had the house elves pour more wine into her goblet. Her husband shot her a venomous look, but she ignored him. "Miriel, dear," she said, sipping her wine. "Why don't you tell us a little bit about yourself. What are your interests?"  
  
After awhile I felt like Mrs. Malfoy was interviewing me. She asked me about my taste in books, if I could play any musical instruments, and even if I had had any serious boyfriends. She seemed quite pleased when I told her that I hadn't had any. From time to time her husband flashed her triumphant looks, and I definitely had the feeling that I was passing some kind of test that she had laid out for me. Finally she turned her attention to Draco.  
  
"Dear, have you finished your potions essay for Severus?" She asked her son. Spring break was almost over, and he had to go back to Hogwarts in a few days.  
  
"Yes, Mother. I finished it before I left."  
  
"And your other homework? What about your reading assignment for Professor Winterwind? Don't you have an essay due in that ridiculous class, as well?"  
  
"That book is so long and so boring!" Draco told her. He was seriously close to whining. "I fall asleep every time I even try to concentrate on it. And that woman is a slave driver. She's still mad at me for hexing her, and she's harder on me than she is on Granger. It's not fair."  
  
"Why on earth Dumbledore allows Muggle studies at that school, I'll never know," Mr. Malfoy said. "Forcing the students to read that Muggle trash is abominable. And hiring a Muggle professor for the class was ludicrous. Dumbledore is the worst headmaster that Hogwarts has ever seen."  
  
"What kind of class is this?" I asked Draco.  
  
"Muggle studies," Draco told me. "The sixth years have to read British Muggle literature, and Professor Winterwind has assigned us this awful book. It has these ugly, little Muggles with hairy feet, an evil ring, a wizard that is just unbelievably pathetic, elves..."  
  
"How revolting," Mrs. Malfoy said with a shudder. "Who would want to read about house elves?"  
  
"I have to write an essay about one of the characters in the book who "succumbs to the darkness," as Professor Winterwind puts it, and why. She just chose the book because there's a Dark Lord in it. Honestly, it's clear that she's just using the book to push her political views on us about..." Draco caught his father's eye and fell suddenly silent.  
  
"I think I know that book," I said with some excitement. There was finally something familiar I could talk about. "That was my favorite book in high school."  
  
Everyone stared at me.  
  
"Sorry," I said sarcastically.  
  
"No doubt you'll change your mind once you are exposed to Wizard literature." Mr. Malfoy said. "You poor girl. You have so much to learn after living so many years out of touch with the real world, but I'm certain that if you just apply yourself, you'll do admirably. It just so happens that I know of an excellent Dark Arts tutor that can guide your education. "  
  
"And I know a superb etiquette tutor," Mrs. Malfoy added.  
  
"I want to go to school at Hogwarts!" I said. "I love school. I wanted to go to college after high school, but I didn't have the money."  
  
Mr. Malfoy's eyes grew icy, and he gave me a half-smirk, half-sneer. "And you are still knutless. You are the impoverished and illegitimate relation that we have taken under our protection out of the pure generosity of our hearts. When you have your own money to pay for your schooling supplies, you may attend school wherever you wish. Otherwise, I, your sole benefactor, will be in charge of your education."  
  
He had me there, the bastard.  
  
"Father, I don't have any friends at school, and-"Draco began.  
  
"Don't be ridiculous," Mrs. Malfoy told him. "What about Vincent and Gregory? And Blaise? They've been your friends since you were children."  
  
"They're not my friends." Draco looked down at his plate sullenly, and the air seemed thick with tension. "All they care about is sucking up to me because of Father."  
  
"I have an idea," Mrs. Malfoy said. "It's clear that Miriel needs some...proper clothing. I think a trip to Madam Malkin's shop is in order. I'm sure there are a few other items that Miriel needs. Draco, why don't you help her pick out a few things tomorrow at Diagon Alley? You can spend a little time with her before you go back to school. Perhaps she would even like to see the Quidditch supply shop."  
  
Draco nodded. "Yes, Mother."  
  
"I don't want to be a bother," I said hastily. The thought of the Malfoys spending money on me made me uncomfortable, especially after Mr. Malfoy's nasty, little "impoverished and illegitimate" speech. "I packed some more jeans and stuff in my suitcase. I just need a washing machine."  
  
Mrs. Malfoy smiled as though the thought secretly horrified her. "We're a bit more formal here, dear," she said. Her face became a mask of politeness.  
  
The house elves cleared away the dishes. Mr. Malfoy immediately stormed off, fuming to himself. Mrs. Malfoy swayed a little when rising from the table, and I wondered if she'd had too much wine.  
  
"Would you like to see my room?" Draco asked me. "If you write my essay for me, maybe I'll teach you to ride my broomstick. I'm not supposed to use magic when I'm not in school, but the wards around the castle prevent the Ministry of Magic from finding out."  
  
"You don't really fly on broomsticks, do you?" The thought was really horrifying. "I'm kind of afraid of heights."  
  
He leaned in closer to me and lowered his voice. "I promise you, Miriel, riding my broomstick will be the best experience you've ever had."  
  
I looked at him suspiciously, and his little, evil smirk was back in place. I rolled my eyes. I guess all teenage boys were perverts. Even wizard ones. "Well, just because it's so great when you're flying solo, doesn't mean it will be for any... passengers." Two could play at that game.  
  
I heard a titter behind us. "Draco, darling," Mrs. Malfoy's pleasant voice said. "Stop teasing. I do hope you'll behave yourself."  
  
"Yes, Mother. I was just offering Miriel my services. What?" He asked when he caught my glare. "As a teacher. I can teach you all kinds of things. Maybe I'll let you take out my wand and play with it." He grinned wickedly.  
  
I pulled the most disdainful look I could. Really, I was going to have to practice on my sneers, smirks and snarls in the mirror if I was going to keep up with these people.  
  
*********************************************************************  
  
Many thanks to my reviewers!  
  
Escaped: Wow- reading your reviews is helping my self-esteem! ( I hope that Draco is in character in my story. I see him as someone who is out of control at Hogwarts partially because at home he is over-controlled, bullied, and is rather lonely. BTW- my advisor gave me a few more months on my thesis, so that means more time to write fan fiction. Yaaay!  
  
Dragonwing: I'm so glad you like this story. Thanks for the encouragement. Don't worry, Lucius can't keep Miriel away from going to school forever! 


	7. Chapter Seven

Author's notes: If you don't know what hair sticks are, you can find them at the LongLocks HairSticks Boutique-- www.longlocks.com I wear them all the time, but mine are not nearly as cool as the ones Mr. Borgin sells at "Borgin & Burkes!"  
  
"The Enchantress" is actually a beauty salon in Memphis. But unfortunately I think it only accepts Muggle clientele.

* * *

Chapter Seven 

"Draco, I can't possibly have an entire wardrobe of green clothes." I tried to hold still as Madam Malkin charmed yet another set of robes to fit me.  
  
"Why not?" Draco asked. He leaned back into his chair as though he were a young lord perusing his subjects. "It's my favorite color. Besides, dark green looks so good on you. It matches your eyes. It's a shame you're not going to Hogwarts, you'd look good in Slytherin." A thoughtful look crossed his face. He had been trying to figure out a way to convince his father to let me attend the school all morning.  
  
"Young Master Malfoy is right, you know," Madam Malkin told me with a simper. "He has exquisite taste. Black would be much too harsh for your coloring." She explained to me that proper witches from the old pureblood families have a certain standard for dressing. Anyone would be able to discern my good breeding by what I wore.  
  
"And those horrible robes that you like," With a wave of his hand, Draco indicated the dress robes of purple and green velvet that I especially had my heart set on. They were cut in a medieval fashion, with long, flowing sleeves and a gold belt. "They're too flashy. They're like bloody Christmas tree ornaments."  
  
"I like Mardi Gras colors," I muttered. "And who cares what color you like? They're my clothes."  
  
"Now, Miss Silverthorn, what you wear will reflect upon young Master Malfoy, and his parents. You do want to be presentable, don't you? I am sure that Mrs. Malfoy will have a coming-out party for you, to introduce you into pureblood society." Madam Malkin glanced toward Draco for approval. Honestly, it was just sickening.  
  
Ever since we had flooed into Diagon Alley, Draco had transformed into an ultra-mature, sophisticated young man, and everyone in the shops catered to him. You'd think he was royalty or something. Even on the street people constantly bowed to him, and greeted him as "young Master Malfoy." He had taken a rather possessive stance with me, gently yet firmly guiding me away from Flourish & Blotts bookstore and toward the robe shop. From time to time I caught him watching me as if I was a piece of candy he owned and he wondered how I was going to taste.  
  
I fidgeted impatiently as Madam Malkin tugged and adjusted the robes around me. I was dying to explore Diagon Alley. It seemed I had only caught a glimpse of the fascinating shops on the way here, and I had a small bag of Galleons burning a hole in my pocket. Mr. Malfoy had given it to me before he cast an anti-postal spell on me (no doubt to repel any owls or phoenixes that Professor Dumbledore might send my way) and took off for his business at Gringott's bank.  
  
"Can we go to Flourish and Blotts now?" I asked. I was much more interested in spending money on books than I was on clothes.  
  
"No, my little bookworm." Draco smirked. "You have to go to The Enchantress Beauty Shop. That's where my mum goes. You have to get your hair done."  
  
"What's wrong with my hair?"  
  
"Pureblood witches don't wear their hair down, not unless they're little girls. You also need to get a manicure."  
  
I glanced down at my nail-bitten hands. Being a pureblood witch certainly took a lot of maintenance.  
  
Draco pulled a long piece of parchment out of his pocket. "Mum gave me a list of things you need to get started with. You also need hair pins, a formal dress, gloves, some shoes, stockings, and a copy of Persephone Pettigrew's guide to Pureblood etiquette. Oh, yeah, and some underwear. Knickers and um, things." He handed the paper to the shopkeeper.  
  
"And what color do you think those should be, Young Master Malfoy?" I asked sarcastically. "I wouldn't want to offend anyone's fine, pureblood sensibilities."  
  
"Well, you'd better model them for me, just to make sure they're alright," he smirked. His gaze lingered on that part of my anatomy that was no doubt destined for a green bra.  
  
I was considering slapping that disgusting leer off his face, when Madam Malkin began twittering and chirping like a bird. "Oh, Master Malfoy, you are your father's son. You're just as charming with the ladies. I'm can't tell how pleased I am for you, finding your long lost cousin." She sighed dramatically. "Pansy Parkinson and the other Slytherin girls are just going to die of disappointment."  
  
Draco looked as though the idea pleased him greatly.  
  
"Huh?" I thought that was rather an odd thing to say. At times I felt that there was some part of their conversation that I was missing.  
  
She continued, her eyes misting up with unshed tears. "Poor Miss Silverthorn, being raised as a Muggle." Her hand fluttered up to her cheek as though she was overwhelmed with the thought of it. "It's just like those stories you hear about baby wizards who become lost in the wilderness and are raised by wild animals. They're not discovered until years later."  
  
"I know, Madam Malkin, and by the time they're found, the poor things are just savages." Draco tightened his lips, as though to keep from laughing.  
  
I'd had enough. "You know, Draco, I bet your dad would love those flashy robes," I said in my sweetest voice. "By the way, did you ever get around to telling him the truth about the Galleon in New Orleans?"  
  
"No," Draco muttered. He glanced at Madam Malkin, and frowned at me.  
  
"Did you tell him all about my television? That was pretty funny. For someone who supposedly hates Muggles, you sure-"  
  
"Madam Malkin." To my surprise, Draco paled and then his cheeks flushed pink. "I believe I've changed my mind about the dress. Please add it to my mother's account. After all, Halloween will be here in another six months or so. Perhaps Miriel can use it as a costume." He glared reproachfully at me.  
  
I left the shop wearing robes that were dark green silk, shot through with silver thread that shimmered throughout the material. I carried a shopping bag that had all my shrunken clothes and accessories in it, including my beautiful purple, green and gold dress.  
  
"Don't say things like that, Miriel." Draco hissed in my ear. "Especially not in front of that woman. She's the biggest gossip in Diagon Alley."  
  
"Maybe you should try being a little more respectful. I was just teasing you, anyway. I wouldn't really tell your dad anything."  
  
To my surprise, Draco pulled me into a narrow, shadowed alley between the shops, where we could not be overheard by people passing on the street. "You don't understand," he said. "This is very serious. If there's any kind of rumor that I'm interested in Muggles or that I'm soft toward them, it might make people suspect my loyalty."  
  
"Loyalty to who?" I asked.  
  
He ignored my question. "Crabbe and Goyle are always watching me for any little slip up. All the Slytherins are. Their mothers go into that shop all the time. They'd love to run and tell their fathers anything that would embarrass my father or make him look bad. They'd love to tell their fathers that Lucius Malfoy's son was turning into a Muggle-loving fool like Dumbledore or that stupid git, Weasley."  
  
"But you don't hate Muggles. Well, you didn't seem to hate me when you thought I was a Muggle," I told him, a little confused. In New Orleans Draco hadn't been Prince Charming or anything, but there had never been a moment that I was actually afraid of him. But then, I realized, he had been wandless.  
  
"Look," he sighed. "I don't want to attend school with Mudbloods, and I wouldn't defile myself by marrying one. But I don't want to torture them." He sounded as though he were confessing a huge burden.  
  
"Ugh. They torture Muggles?" I shuddered, and had a sudden, horrible thought about the dungeons under Malfoy Manor.  
  
"Nobody can know that I feel this way. They can't know that I'm...weak." He clenched his jaw, and for a moment his eyes were filled with pain.  
  
"Oh, Draco, I don't think you're weak. I'm glad you don't want to torture Muggles." I laid my hand on his arm. "I won't say anything to anybody. I promise."  
  
"I know you won't." He took out his wand and moved closer to me.  
  
"What are you doing?" I asked, a note of nervousness trembling in my voice. I backed up from him, until my back pressed against the side of the building. "Draco, don't!" I glanced out toward the street, but I didn't see anyone passing by.  
  
"Silentium," he whispered. "Silentium facero." The tip of the wand blazed into a hazy, lavender light. It shone on his pale hair, and danced in his silvery eyes. For a strange, scary moment, he looked much like his father. He touched my lips with the polished wood.  
  
"Ow!" It felt like a cold, electric shock. "What did you do?" I clapped my hand over my mouth, and I began to tremble. It was such an awful, helpless feeling to know that someone had power over me, power that I didn't understand.  
  
"It's okay. Don't be afraid." The palm of his hand grazed my cheek. His thumb ran over my lower lip, smoothing away the shock and the iciness. "It's just a silencing spell. My parents used it on me all the time. Tell me something about New Orleans. Tell me about the Muggles on the television."  
  
I opened my mouth, but to my horror, no words would form. My lips were paralyzed. "I can't," I finally gasped. "That's not fair!" I tried to push him away from me, but he was too heavy. "Are you going to do this every time I say something you don't like? How am I supposed to keep you in line?"  
  
He laughed softly. "You're not supposed to keep me in line. A proper, pureblood witch is supposed to be docile and submissive to her wizard." He pressed closer in against me. Even though he was slender, I could feel his hard muscles shift under his robes. He nuzzled the sensitive skin under my ear. "She should be willing to do whatever it takes to please him," he murmured against my neck.  
  
"I guess I will never be a proper, pureblood witch, then, will I?" I drew a sharp breath, and resisted a sudden impulse to slide my fingers into his silky hair, to stay there and let him kiss me. "And you are definitely not my wizard!"  
  
"I will be," he breathed into my ear.   
  
I elbowed him in the ribs, and pushed my way quickly by him. My voice shook, this time with anger. "You are just a brat! You just wait! You just wait until I get a wand!" I knew I sounded childish, but at this point I didn't care. The spell had made me feel helpless and out of control, which in turn made me furious. Mr. Malfoy had told me that I was supposed to go to Ollivander's today and purchase a wand, and now I was really looking forward to it.  
  
"You won't know what to do with it when you have one." I heard his laughter behind me as I ran out into the street. Draco caught up to me and grabbed my hand. "Come on, don't sulk. I bought you a present yesterday, when I was getting my new wand."  
  
I slapped his hand away, and looked at him suspiciously. "So? That doesn't change the fact that you're a big jerk. Why did you wait until today to give it to me?"  
  
"I was waiting for the right moment." He said.  
  
"Like when you need to butter me up?" I muttered.  
  
Draco smiled and held out a small narrow package wrapped in layers of gold tissue. Sealing the tissue was a gold sticker that said, "Borgin & Burkes." "Tell the lady at the beauty shop to use these to pin your hair up."  
  
They were a pair of exquisite hair sticks, shaped like thin, serpentine dragons, and topped with huge emeralds. The scales on the dragons glittered like silver frost, while the jewels flashed in the sun like green fire. I gasped in spite of myself. "These are beautiful." I couldn't imagine how expensive they must have been.  
  
He screwed off one of the emerald tops, showing me how the inside of the hair stick was hollow. "You can hide poison and other potions in them. They're coated inside so that the potions can't eat through the metal. And don't worry, they're not cursed or anything. I made sure of that."  
  
I stared at Draco, not quite knowing what to make of him.  
  
"Thank you," I said. "I've always thought dragons were kind of cool. I guess you can be nice, in a spooky kind of way. But don't think this means that I forgive you. I actually felt sorry for you, and in spite of my promise, you had to go and cast some horrible spell on me."  
  
"I didn't want you to say anything accidentally," Draco said. "You don't understand our world yet. You don't know how-"  
  
"Cruel and treacherous it can be? I already got that speech from your dad yesterday."  
  
"Well it's true." After a moment, Draco grinned. "Did he tell you that "Knowledge and power are most important in the wizarding world?" I've heard that speech since I was five years old."  
  
I laughed in spite of myself. I was feeling a little better by the time we came to the sign that read, "The Enchantress Beauty Shop."  
  
"Oh no!" Draco stopped in front of the window. "What is she doing in there?"  
  
"What is it?"  
  
"Professor Winterwind is in there, with Professor Sprout." I could tell by the grimace on his face that he didn't want to go in. "Why can't she go to a Muggle beauty shop?"  
  
"I can get my hair done by myself. Why don't you go ahead to the Quidditch supply shop. I can meet you later." I tried not to act too eager, but the thought of running wild in the bookstore without Draco hovering over me and peering over my shoulder was a tantalizing one. With my luck, there was probably a huge list of books that were not proper for pureblood witches to read.  
  
"Father told me not to leave you alone." He hovered in the doorway, as if unsure what to do. He had mentioned earlier that morning that there were some professional Quidditch players at the supply shop today, and that they were signing broomsticks. He was dying to go.  
  
"Go! I'm nineteen years old, for goodness sake. I'll meet you at that wand shop in a couple of hours or so."  
  
"Okay." Draco nodded, a look of excitement forming on his face. "Ollivander's is down the street on the right. And for Merlin's sake, don't turn left. Stay out of Knockturn alley. It can be a really dangerous place and you don't want to go there without me." Before I could say anything more, he took off like a shot, as if he expected Professor Winterwind to be chasing him at any moment.  
  
A lady at the salon charmed my hair into elaborate, upswept braids that she pinned with my new dragon hair sticks. They wouldn't come undone until I said the releasing charm. She gave me a magical manicure. She also used some kind of cosmetic charm that improved my looks without looking as though I was wearing makeup. I was naturally a little pale, and the charm added color to my face and made my eyes stand out more. I even got my ears pierced, with tiny, emerald earrings. The stylist was so happy at all the money I was spending that she gave me a free book of grooming spells and hair bewitching charms.  
  
Finally I got to go into Flourish and Blotts. I strolled into the coolness of the bookstore, and breathed in the wonderful scent of old paper. The first thing that caught my eye was a huge display of books. Looking at the cover of one of them, I saw that it was entitled, "Mysterious Malignant Magical Mirrors, a history of the use of mirrors in the dark arts," by Lucius D. Malfoy." On the cover was a moving photo of Mr. Malfoy holding his snake-headed walking stick. He was flinging back his long, platinum hair from his shoulder and smirking.  
  
"What a surprise," I muttered sarcastically at the title. "At least it's not something like "Torturing Muggles For Fun and Profit."  
  
"As much as I don't approve of everything in Lucius' book," A gentle, husky voice said from behind me. "I have to agree that he understands the nature of mirrors. I suspect that he is so fascinated with mirrors, because they remind him of himself."  
  
I turned. A tall, elderly man stood there. Bright blue eyes twinkled down at me behind half-rimmed glasses. He looked like a pleasant, hippie-grandpa, in a light blue business suit. An immense, silver-white beard flowed over his chest, almost hiding a tie that was sprinkled with moons and stars. A ponytail hung halfway down his back. I liked him immediately.  
  
"Both of them deal with illusion, Miss Silverthorn. Mirrors can show wonderful things, what we most wish to see. They can persuade us of many things. They can also be unpredictable, false and dangerous."  
  
"Oh." I blinked at him in surprise. "How do you know my name, Mr-?"  
  
"Dumbledore. Albus Dumbledore." He clasped my hand in greeting. The skin of his hand was dry and papery, but his grip was strong. "I can't tell you how delighted I am to meet you, my dear, and to find you unharmed."

* * *

Thank you to all my wonderful reviewers! (Tosses out Mardi Gras Beads- Blows kisses)  
  
Thank you, Merryday and Chocoliciouz!  
  
Dragonwing: Thank you so much for your encouragement. I've been having a few computer problems this week. Yes, I've been a bit busy- job hunting, graduation, reading epic fantasy novels, daydreaming about Lucius Malfoy... I usually work on a few chapters of my story at one time, and I try planning out the story in advance so I don't find myself at a dead end. I, too, have been frustrated at reading great stories that poop out. I prayed to the patron saint of fan fiction at the beginning that this would never happen to my story!  
  
Escaped: Thanks again so much for your great reviews and your encouragement! I'm glad you liked Malfoy Manor. I was lucky enough to tour castles in Ireland one summer, and I try to use details from real life (like the flecks of gold in the castle stone) to make my story seem more real. I hope your computer is behaving itself. Please let me know if anything in my story is boring or needs improving. I'm also NOT a Harry Potter expert, so if you see anything in my little Harry Potter world that is not correct, it would be nice if you'd let me know. HAVE A GREAT VACATION! Thanks! 


	8. Chapter Eight

Author's note: The silencing spell that Draco uses on Miriel in Chapter Seven comes from the fantastic story "Not For Sale," by Escaped. I thought I made it up, but no, I read it in her story, and it stuck in my subconscious. (That's what happens when you read too much fan fiction!) :-)

* * *

Chapter Eight  
  
"Lucius appears to be taking care of you." Professor Dumbledore looked over my appearance, noting my new, expensive clothes. "Very good care of you, indeed. Most astonishing." He shook his head. "I've known that man since he was a first year at Hogwarts, but once in a while he still manages to surprise me."  
  
"But... how do you know who I am?" I asked. "How did you know I was here?" I glanced around the bookstore, wondering if he had apparated in. He did just seem to appear out of nowhere.  
  
"It is the headmistress, Minerva McGonagall's job to know all the names of potential students that fall within our jurisdiction." The old gentleman told me. "I was quite astonished to find your name among them. I assume, then, that this indicates that you have not received any education as a witch?"  
  
I shook my head. "I didn't even know I was a witch until Mr. Malfoy found me in New Orleans."  
  
"So that's where you were, in the States. I've often wondered about that over the years. As to your second question, all Hogwarts letters are enchanted to reflect the location of the recipient, even when it changes, and as you are the only young lady present in this section of the bookstore..." He handed me an envelope, and it had written on it in green ink:  
  
Miss. Miriel Silverthorn  
Diagon Alley  
Flourish & Blotts  
Dark Arts Section  
  
"And my dear, you do look very much like your father," He added with a gentle smile.  
  
"Thank you!" I gazed at the envelope in wonder. "Did you come all the way here just to give this to me?"  
  
"I admit that I was most distressed when Fawkes failed to deliver it to you yesterday." His blue eyes suddenly became serious. "Please, tell me Miss Silverthorn, what of your mother?"  
  
I told him about my mother dying a year earlier.  
  
"When I saw your name on Professor McGonagall's list," he said, removing his glasses and wiping the tears from his eyes, "I was afraid that Lucius had found her, and had taken you captive. I realize your mother's death must have been hard for you, my dear, but it was better for her to have died in such a way, than to have fallen into Lucius Malfoy's hands. There are things that are much worse than death." The Professor hesitated before saying gently, "After your mother escaped, Voldemort forced Lucius to kill Gaius, and that made Lucius very bitter toward your mother."  
  
My mouth fell open. "How awful. He had to kill my father?"  
  
Professor Dumbledore patted my shoulder kindly. "I know it's a shock. We have so much to talk about. Why don't we sit down and have a cup of tea? I admit I'm rather busy today, but I do have enough time for a bit of a chat."  
  
Evidently, Flourish & Blotts had recently opened up a tiny tea shop inside the store, where customers could read magazines or visit. There were a couple of tables near the windows, and we sat down to a pot of tea and a little plate full of cookies and scones. Soon Professor Dumbledore was munching away, and brushing cookie crumbs out of his beard. There was a sharp intelligence in his eyes that didn't quite fit his elderly, rather eccentric persona.  
  
"You sound like you knew about me," I told him. "Mr. Malfoy didn't even know that my mom was pregnant with me when she left."  
  
"I believe that only your father, myself and Professor McGonagall knew of your mother's pregnancy. I knew both your mother and father at Hogwarts, of course," Professor Dumbledore told me. "I aided Miranda the best I could. I was saddened when I learned of your father's death. Those were very dark times." He rubbed his brow briefly as though the images that ran through his mind were painful.  
  
"But why didn't my father run away with her?" I asked.  
  
"Voldemort branded his followers with a special marking, known as the Dark mark. It is a magical link burned into the flesh of their arms, and it connects the Death Eaters to him. When he calls, they must respond immediately and go to him."  
  
I vaguely wondered why he was using the present tense. "I have to ask you something, Professor." This was a question that had been bothering me for the last few days. "My mom had a boyfriend, a partner in the shop she owned. He was really... mean. If all this time she was a witch, why didn't she do something to stop him?"  
  
"There was always the possibility that Miranda could have been traced had she performed any kind of magic," he told me. "Every witch and wizard has a kind of personal magical signature. Even the mirrors she created would have held this signature. Her instinct to protect you must have kept her from giving into the temptation to use magic. She must have believed that it was better for you to live as a Muggle than live in the Wizarding world such as it was. Even after Lord Voldemort was vanquished, there were still many former Death Eaters, such as Lucius, who would have wanted revenge on her."  
  
My eyes filled with tears. "It's not fair," I whispered. Both of my parents had died because they wanted to protect me.  
  
"I know, my dear." Professor Dumbledore's eyes were filled with warmth and concern. "Lord Voldemort created many such orphans as yourself." He handed me a purple silk handkerchief, and I sniffed into it for a few moments.  
  
"Please tell me, how has Lucius been treating you?" He asked when I had recovered a bit.  
  
"He's been pretty nice to me," I told him. "Well, except for getting kind of cranky after your letter came. The phoenix bit him."  
  
Professor Dumbledore just chuckled as though he thought this was hilarious. "I'm afraid Fawkes takes his duties very seriously."  
  
I told the headmaster all about Mr. Malfoy wanting to get me a tutor and about Draco taking me to buy new clothes and a wand. "Do you think that all of this is because Mr. Malfoy feels guilty or something? He doesn't really seem like the uncle type."  
  
"Does Lucius actually have the capacity to feel guilt, I wonder. Perhaps, my dear. It may have been guilt that fueled his rage toward your mother. It was he who pressured Gaius to become a Death Eater in the first place. They were not close and tended to be rivals for their father's approval, but Gaius was much younger than Lucius, and so Lucius may have felt somewhat responsible for him. I've known Lucius long enough, however, to know that if you have captured his attention, it's because he feels you will be useful to him in some capacity." Professor Dumbledore held up a flaky cookie, made with many layers of crust. "I like to think of it this way, that Lucius' motivations come in layers. He's not a simple man, and usually his goals have many different aspects to them."  
  
Just then the shop door slammed opened behind me. I turned to glance behind me, only to see a clump of boys enter the shop. They were chattering something about "cannons."  
  
"My dear," The headmaster said. "I couldn't help just now but notice those large, beautiful emeralds in your hair. May I ask where you acquired them?"  
  
"Draco gave them to me. They're hair sticks, in the shape of dragons." I patted my braids with my hand. The sticks still felt heavy and cold on the back of my head.  
  
"How interesting." Here Professor Dumbledore peered at me over his half- moon glasses. There was a quizzical little smile on his face. "How are you getting along with him?"  
  
Something about the look on his face made me nervous. "Why do you ask?"  
  
"It's just that traditionally, in old pureblood families, extravagant hair pins are a gift that is quite commonly given as a sign of betrothal. It's a little like giving someone an engagement ring. The custom has rather quaint origins. In ancient Britain, witches' powers were said to reside in their long, luxurious hair. Hair ornaments became a way of-"  
  
"Wait! Back up! What are you saying?" I must have been hearing him wrong.  
  
"Have the Malfoys given any suggestion to you that they wish you to marry Draco?" Professor Dumbledore asked gently.  
  
"No," I squeaked. But to my horror, I began to remember Madam Malkin's strange little comments, pieces of Mr. Malfoy's speech in the garden, and Mrs. Malfoy interviewing me at the dining table. Most of all, I remembered the words Draco whispered to me earlier that day in the narrow alleyway between the shops. "I can't marry Draco. That's just wrong!"  
  
"Why is that, my dear?" The headmaster popped another cookie into his mouth.  
  
"Well, because he's too young. He's annoying. And he's like...my cousin! I mean, the Malfoys are strangers to me. It doesn't _feel_ like he's my cousin, but still..."  
  
"Ah, yes." He nodded. "America is the only country in the world that harbors a cultural taboo against cousins marrying. I'd like to remind you, my dear, that you are immersed in another culture now. This is not considered incestuous in Britain, even among Muggles. Among the pureblood wizard families, it is even considered as preferable. I want to assure you that no one would harbor any kind of prejudice or ill feelings toward you if you did consider such an offer."  
  
"You mean you think I should consider it?" I asked, shocked.  
  
"I'm not saying anything, my dear. I just realize that you are in a rather sticky situation."  
  
"Rather sticky" was an understatement. "But why would the Malfoy's want me? When Mr. Malfoy was annoyed with me, he called me poor and illegitimate. I was raised like a Muggle. They practically think I'm an ignorant savage. I would have thought they'd want someone rich, like they are!"  
  
"You are poor when it comes to money, yes that is true. But I suspect that Lucius is well aware that you are the legal heir to many magical mirrors that have been in the Silverthorn family for centuries. The Silverthorn family is older, and your blood is perhaps even purer than that of the Malfoys. In the wizarding world, the mirror-magi have been the closest thing that we have to royalty. They're second only to the Ollivanders. That, combined with your inherited ability to create such mirrors, would make you a great asset for the Malfoy family. Perhaps because you have no other close relatives, Lucius believes that you would be easily controlled. And if he has any remnants of guilt about the past, providing for you may be a way for him to ease his conscience."  
  
He looked thoughtful for a few moments, and then his face became grim. "I don't want to alarm you, but I doubt very seriously whether the Malfoys have discussed their... alliance with you."  
  
"Alliance?" I had a bad, prickly feeling at the back of my neck. I didn't know if I could take any more shocks today.  
  
He leaned in a little closer to me, his eyes intent on mine. He reached across the table and took my hand. "My dear, what do you know of Voldemort? The Dark Lord?"  
  
"Um, that he was vanquished by some kid? When Draco was a baby."  
  
"The Dark Lord returned two years ago." Professor Dumbledore tightened his hand on mine. "And Lucius serves him once more. Actually, Lucius is very high in the ranks of Death Eaters. A kind of first Lieutenant, if you will."  
  
"Oh, no!" I felt the blood drain from my face. A horrible, cold chill gripped me, and I felt a heavy weight in my stomach. I was in serious danger of crying again.  
  
'I don't want you to panic." The headmaster said. "I just feel that it is always better to know the truth, no matter how difficult it is."  
  
"What am I going to do?" My pulse raced, and all of a sudden I felt the urge to run away, to run back to New Orleans and just be a Muggle again.  
  
Professor Dumbledore must have read this on my face, because he said, "The worse thing you could do is run, my dear. I could take you to Hogwarts right now, and while you would be safe while you were there, Lucius would come after you. He is ruthless, and you would spend your life looking over your shoulder. It would not do to make him your enemy."  
  
"When Mr. Malfoy came to New Orleans," I told the headmaster, trying to get a grip on my emotions. "He was looking for magical mirrors. What exactly was he looking for?"  
  
"Your mother had been working on a particular mirror for Lord Voldemort, before she fled the wizarding world. It was one which would have given him a frightening amount of power. Lucius may have been looking for that. No doubt he could not conceive of anyone breaking such a valuable item, especially the creator herself."  
  
"Where is the mirror now?"  
  
"I feel that it is not prudent to reveal that to you at this time." Dumbledore said regretfully. "I-"  
  
At that moment two boys who looked to be about Draco's age flew through the shop door and almost bumped into our table. They moved so fast, they looked like two blurs, one with red hair, and the other, with black.  
  
"Boys, boys!" Dumbledore grabbed his tea cup so that it wouldn't be knocked over. "Where's the dragon?"  
  
"Oh! Sorry, professor Dumbledore!" The black-haired boy skidded to a stop and looked very surprised to see the headmaster. He was dressed in jeans and a t-shirt. His black hair was wild and messy, and the glasses perched in front of his green eyes were slightly skewed. "We're here to buy the autobiography of the Chudley Cannons," he said in a breathless voice. "The team members are supposed to be at the Quidditch supply store today."  
  
"And we need the books so they can sign them." The redheaded boy panted. "We're running late today. Mum wouldn't let any of us leave until we had cleaned the whole house!"  
  
"Hang on. Excuse me, professor," the black-haired boy stared at Professor Dumbledore's suit. "I'm just not used to seeing you outside of school, and in..."  
  
"Muggle clothing?" The headmaster smoothed his star-dusted tie with his hand. "Yes, I am conducting a few job interviews in Muggle London today."  
  
"For a new Muggle Studies teacher, I hope!" The redheaded boy said. The other boy jabbed him in the ribs with his elbow. "Well, why else would he be interviewing Muggles?" The redhead then noticed me. I saw him glancing at my clothes, and then a slight look of distaste crossed his broad, freckled face. It was obvious that he had already taken a dislike to me, for some reason.  
  
"I'm waiting for both of you gentlemen to find your manners." Although his voice was serious, Profesor Dumbledore's eyes sparkled with amusement. "May I introduce you to Miss Miriel Silverthorn?" He turned to me. "And these elegant young men are Harry Potter, and Ronald Weasley."  
  
"Hello," they said and nodded. Harry suddenly looked a little shy, as if expecting that I would recognize his name. And it did sound very familiar...  
  
"Miss Silverthorn will soon be joining us at Hogwarts." Professor Dumbledore beamed proudly.  
  
I blushed. "Um, I don't really know if that's going to happen," I half mumbled, too embarrassed to explain myself to the boys.  
  
Professor Dumbledore just nodded and smiled. "Well, trust me, my dear, these things always have a way of working out."  
  
After the two boys disappeared into the sports section to find their books, Professor Dumbledore helped himself to another lemon cookie. He then pulled out a tiny, white book-bag out of his suit pocket. "I have been giving these welcoming packages to all the Muggleborn first years who arrive at Hogwarts," he told me. "They do have an awful time of it, leaving their families and the Muggle world behind. Some of the items may seem a bit too young for you, but perhaps you will find them cheering. You can restore them to normal size once you are alone."  
  
"Thank you." I peered inside the small bag, and found a few books with bright yellow and black covers, a bag of lemon drops, a stuffed toy dragon, some stationary with little owls printed on them, and a few little games and toys that I didn't recognize. I decided right then that Professor Dumbledore was a little goofy, but he meant well.  
  
"Those last two books I included especially for you. They are excellent, based on a series of Muggle books. Now I realize that you are no dummy, my dear." He smiled. "It's just a bit of a joke. These books help to provide the most basic of information to people who are unfamiliar with our world. I suspect that you will experience culture shock, as you will be facing not only our wizarding culture, but our British one as well. You will find the pureblood wizard families, such as the Malfoys, still carry on traditions that are centuries old. I believe there's a special chapter on them."  
  
"Thank you!" I picked one of the miniature books up. It was entitled, "The Complete Dummy's Guide To The Wizarding World." The other was a similar guide to "Magical Mirrors," and the third title was a little different. It read, "The Complete Dunderhead's Guide To Potions."  
  
"My potions master, Severus Snape, contributed that third one," Professor Dumbledore said proudly. "He is quite a talented and brave man. And one-" here Professor Dumbledore peered at me again over his half-moon glasses. "That I trust implicitly." With those words, he took out a pocket watch, which I saw was spinning with tiny planets and galaxies. "How time flies! I hate to leave you like this, but I'm afraid I must go now, Miss Silverthorn. Where are you running off to now, may I ask?"  
  
"I'm getting a wand," I had been so excited about it, but my conversation with Professor Dumbledore had shaken me up. "I'm supposed to meet Draco there pretty soon."  
  
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the two boys in the front of the store paying for their books.  
  
"Harry!" Professor Dumbledore motioned him over to our table. "I know you're in a hurry, but could you please do me a favor and show Miss Silverthorn to Ollivander's? This is her first time here. She was raised as a Muggle, and she just needs a bit of direction."  
  
Ron's mouth dropped open slightly, and he frowned as if he couldn't believe that the headmaster was asking such a thing. "But, Professor, the Quidditch players-"  
  
"Will still be there for a few more minutes," Professor Dumbledore stated firmly.  
  
Harry stood forward. "I'll go, I don't mind, Professor." He gave his book to Ron. "Go ahead without me, Ron, I'll be there in just a minute."

* * *

Thank you to all my reviewers!  
  
Thanks to Chocoliciouz and Oberon!  
  
Rycca Wolfbane: Thank you so much for your reviews, and for your e-mail. I've been trying to reply to it, but I'm having computer problems so I'll probably wait until I can get to the school library. Actually, Miriel probably is a Mary Sue when it comes to hair! I'm pretty hair obsessed, and spend money on outrageously expensive hair junk. I just wanna run my fingers through Lucius Malfoy's silvery locks!  
  
Escaped: I'm Sorry I accidentally ripped off your spell! How embarrassing! If you're a Latin wussie, I'm a Latin faker. ( I use a Latin dictionary but I don't know how to conjugate the verbs or anything. It's not proper Latin, believe me! Yes, it looks like Miriel has a secret weakness for "bad boys" as well. Don't worry, terrible Lucius temper tantrums are coming (hehehe) 


	9. Chapter Nine

Chapter Nine

Harry seemed like a nice kid. He smiled at me shyly, and ran a hand through his messy hair as we walked, as if trying to straighten it. It was a lost cause. His legs were much longer than mine, and soon I was trotting to keep up with him.

"I don't know why Professor Dumbledore wanted you to escort me," I told him apologetically. "Everything's on one street. It's not like I'm going to get lost or anything." I paused briefly in front of a shop called the "Magical Menagerie," and gazed longingly in the front window at a fluffy, purple kitten. I again felt a flash of irritation that I couldn't just shop alone.

"He's kind of old fashioned like that, I guess." Harry shrugged. "It's okay, Ron's way more into the Cannons than I am. You know, Miriel, for some reason your surname sounds really familiar. Hang on." Harry paused and dug a hand into his jeans pocket. He pulled out a little stack of what looked like cards with photographs on them. He searched through them, found one and handed it to me. "They're like trading cards," he said. "They come in chocolate frogs. I save them for Ginny- that's Ron's little sister."

Smiling and waving up at me was a tiny picture of a friendly looking man in a silver robe, with a short, gray beard. He actually reminded me of a much younger looking Professor Dumbledore. Under it, I read:

Sebastian Silverthorn

Considered to be the greatest Mirror-Mage of modern times. Silverthorn is particularly famous for creating the Mirror of Erised, and for his controversial experiments using mirrors to transcend space and time. Was known to be close friends with Hogwarts Headmaster Albus Dumbledore and Alchemist Nicolas Flamel. Tragically disappeared into one of his mirrors in1976 and was never seen again.  
  
"My bathroom mirror mentioned him," I told Harry. "He was my grandfather." I couldn't help but feel a little sad looking at the card. I missed having relatives while I grew up, especially Grandparents.

"Oh." Harry looked thoughtful for a moment. "I've seen his mirror, the Mirror of Erised, during my first year at Hogwarts. You wouldn't happen to know why he made it, would you?"

I shook my head. "No, I never even heard of him until I came here."

"It's just that, when people look into the mirror, they see what they most desire. Professor Dumbledore told me that some people are just so enchanted by what they see, that they'll just waste away in front of it. I've always thought it was rather an odd thing to make. It doesn't seem, well, very useful."

I wanted to ask him more about what he had seen in the mirror, but from the solemn, far-away look on his face, I thought it might be too personal.

Finally, we stopped in front of Ollivander's wand shop, and I caught my breath with excitement. Harry turned to me. "Um, Mr. Ollivander can be a little creepy. I don't think he means to be." As the boy pushed open the door of the shop, I heard him mutter under his breath, "At least I don't think so."

I stepped inside, and was immediately struck by the dinginess of the place. The room was narrow and shabby, and I was surrounded by piles of small boxes that reached the ceiling. I was still blinking in an effort to adjust my eyesight to the darkness when a voice from one of the shop's corners made me jump.

"As I live and breathe... Harry Potter. I haven't seen you since the weighing of the wands at the Triwizard tournament. How is your wand holding up, Mr. Potter? Is it behaving properly? You haven't outgrown it, have you?"

"It's fine, Mr. Ollivander," Harry told him. "I was just showing Miriel to your shop. This is, um, Miriel Silverthorn. She's new here."

A thin man stepped forward into what little light there was. The wild mop of his hair was even messier than Harry's. His pale eyes seemed to glow, and his thin lips stretched into a smile. "I haven't heard of a member of the Silverthorn family since Miranda disappeared so many years ago. Can you possibly be...her daughter? But you resemble someone else... a Malfoy, I believe?"

"Gaius Malfoy was my father," I said, nodding. The man must have an excellent memory.

Next to me, Harry looked at me in surprise, and I thought, dismay.

"Well, this is certainly a surprise. It's not often that I get someone like _you_ in my shop." Mr. Ollivander fawned over me like I was a celebrity, which only made him creepier. "I remember both of your parents in my shop, buying their first wands. But how is it that I have not made your acquaintance before now, Miss Silverthorn?"

"It's really a long story," I told him. "My uncle found me in the States. I didn't know I was a witch." I didn't really want to elaborate.

"Yes," Understanding dawned on the old man's face. "I'm not one for gossip, but Borgin told me that yesterday young Master Malfoy bought a special gift for a mysterious, young lady. It's all over the alleys. You'd think that in his line of business, Borgin would have learned some discretion." Mr. Ollivander rubbed his hands together briskly. "But down to business. It's always an exciting thing, buying your first wand. Let me see..." After taking quite a few measurements that seemed to center around my right arm and my head, he disappeared among the enormous shelves in the rear of the shop.

He carried a short stack of slim boxes, setting them carefully upon the counter. He then favored us with another of those eerie smiles. "Since there haven't been any Mirror-Magi in Britain for quite some time," He said. "I usually send these wands to customers outside the country."

"I don't mean to interrupt," Harry said, "But I noticed that each of these boxes is stamped with a Unicorn."

"Yes, Mr. Potter. The unicorn is a common symbol for the Mirror-Mage. You see, the silver reflection behind the glass of a magical mirror- and I don't mean a silly bathroom mirror or a Muggle mirror that has been enchanted, but a true mirror of power- is not silver nitrate, tin or mercury. It comes from unicorn's blood. "

"Unicorn..." I murmured. There really were such creatures?

"But I thought that killing a unicorn made the blood cursed," Harry said. He grimaced, as though he recalled a horrible memory.

"Ah... and this is very important." Mr. Ollivander paused dramatically. "The blood must be freely given. If the unicorn is killed or harmed in any way, the mirror immediately becomes a product of dark magic. Magic is then poured into the mirrors by means of powerful potions. That is why the art of potion making and creating mirrors are interconnected, and the process can be quite complex. It demands huge amounts of magic and highly developed skills."

"Freely given?" Harry asked. "Well, how do you go about that? Why would a unicorn give you its blood?"

"I don't know any more than that," Mr. Ollivander replied. "Mirror-Magi have always been very secretive and mysterious about their craft. Information and training are passed down through one's family, and they guard their secrets carefully." He glanced at me with a mixture of thoughtfulness and pity.

I realized that I had no family to pass anything like that along to me.

The shopkeeper selected a box, drawing forth a small, slender wand and offered it to me. "Silverwood, ten and a half inches, with a core of Unicorn's tail."

"What do I do?" I asked.

Mr. Ollivander chuckled. "How silly of me, of course you wouldn't know. Simply give it a good wave and we'll see what happens, hmmm?"

I gave the wand a wave. Unfortunately, it didn't do much of anything. A flickering stream of weak light sputtered from the tip of the wand, but that was all. Mr. Ollivander quickly took it from me. "No, no, that won't work at all. Try this one..." He handed me another. "Willow, twelve inches, Moondragon's heartstring." I only succeeded in shooting a book across the room, which unfortunately hit Harry in the head. I blushed furiously, but Mr. Ollivander merely waved away my apology and handed me another wand, and then another. Finally, the stack he had brought to the counter was gone.

Mr. Ollivander frowned. "I confess that I am puzzled, Miss Silverthorn. I do have another wand in the back, but I admit that I never thought to actually have a customer that would suit it." A flare of interest entered the wandmaker's eyes. After staring at me for a moment and muttering something under his breath, the old man disappeared through a doorway at the back of the shop.

"You can go back to the Quidditch shop," I told Harry, "You don't have to stay here and babysit me."

"Are you kidding? I'm really getting curious, now." Harry said.

When the wandmaker returned, I was somewhat surprised to see that the wand case he carried was quite different from the others. A bit dusty, it was nonetheless beautiful, formed from a silvery, glistening wood. After Mr. Ollivander wiped the dust off, I could see that the box was carved with a galloping unicorn.

Looking at me silently, Mr. Ollivander opened the case, and Harry and I both gasped simultaneously. Inside, on a bed of white satin, laid a strikingly beautiful wand. I heard Harry give a little choke of surprise.

The outer surface of the wand was polished and clear like glass, but inside, it was silver and brilliantly faceted. As Mr. Ollivander shifted the box, the wand caught the dim light, magnified it and broke it into a thousand shards of color.

"It looks like a diamond," Harry murmured. "Or like there are a lot of tiny mirrors inside of it."

"Adamant is a very rare and very magical substance," Mr. Ollivander told us, his eyes shining and dancing with the light shining off the wand. "It is a conduit for massive amounts of wizarding power, which may incinerate a wooden wand. It is unbreakable, as well."

My hand hovered over the wand, and I was afraid to touch it. It was too beautiful, like something out of a fairy tale.

"Go on," The wandmaker urged. "Give it a try."

As my fingers closed around it, a bolt of pure energy seemed to flare throughout my body, and I gasped. The wand felt natural, as though it was an extension of my hand. The tip of the wand blazed with strange silver light. The light pulsed like an exploding star, and a delicate sound like distant chimes filled the air.

"Well, there's no doubt that is your wand, is there?" Mr. Ollivander gazed at me with wonder. "This wand was meant for only the most powerful sort of Mirror-Mage, my dear, such as your grandfather. Yes, I believe you are destined for great things."

Harry looked sharply at the wandmaker, but it seemed to be difficult for him to take his eyes off the dazzling wand. He tilted his head to look at it more closely, pressing against me, and I felt his hand grazing the small of my back.

I carefully placed the wand back in the box. I brought out my little bag of Galleons. "I hope that Mr. Malfoy gave me enough money," I said, a little nervously. Certainly a wand like this would have to be expensive.

Mr. Ollivander's pale eyes met mine as he began wrapping the wand case in a protective layer of brown paper. His expression revealed complete satisfaction. "I can't tell you the joy it brings me to help a wand choose the right witch," He said. "Please, Miss Silverthorn, I would be honored if you would accept this wand as a gift. A betrothal gift, if you like." He smiled at me until he was positively leering, and I could tell that he was hoping for more information."

"Betrothal?" Said Harry.

"I hope that you and young Master Malfoy will be very happy together." Mr. Ollivander added.

A look of absolute horror covered Harry's face. His hand fell away from my back, and he took a step away from me. His green eyes widened, and his mouth fell open. "You're marrying Draco Malfoy?"

I would have laughed at the shocked look on the boy's face, if I hadn't been somewhat stunned, myself. "Oh, Mr. Ollivander," I stammered and gasped for words. "I don't know what to say! I don't know if I could accept-"

Just then the bell on the shop's front door jingled. Mr. Ollivander peered towards the front of the shop and said, "Ah, speak of the wizard. Good day to you, young Master Malfoy."

Draco stood behind us, his eyes blinking in the gloom, his silhouette dark against the shop windows. "Miriel, is that you?" He studied me intently. "Wow, you look really..."

The moment he saw Harry beside me, his face stiffened with anger. I was shocked by the intensity of the loathing and hatred reflected in both of the boys' faces as they glared at each other. Each one looked like they could kill the other.

"What the fuck are you doing here Potter?" Draco spat out the words. Jealousy flashed in his eyes as his look shifted between me and Harry, and he definitely had that alpha male "She's mine" look on his face.

"I don't want any trouble, Malfoy." Harry shifted uneasily.

"Harry just showed me where the shop was," I told Draco.

"You're already calling him by his first name?" Draco muttered. As he approached, he moved with a feral grace, and I was suddenly reminded of a predator.

Harry's jaw tightened and his hands clenched into fists.

I hastily stepped back away from them both.

"Boys, I think you had better take this outside," Mr. Ollivander warned.

"Think to associate with your betters, now, do you?" Draco snarled at Harry, and for a moment, he looked, once again, amazingly like his father. "That filthy Mudblood whore, Granger, isn't good enough for you anymore? Not getting enough?"

Harry's face flushed with anger. "Shut your mouth, Malfoy."

Almost too quickly for me to see, wands appeared in both the boys' hands.

Draco sneered. "Don't ever talk to my cousin again, Potter. You're not even good enough to look at her."

I remembered what Draco's parents had told me about their son being a powerful wizard. Harry must have been powerful, as well, because energy crackled in the air between the boys like miniature lighting. I could actually feel currents of magical power gathering itself around them, and the air seemed to thicken and grow heavy. I touched the counter next to me to steady myself, and with the contact, shocked my fingers.

"Accio wands."

Both wands flew into Mr. Ollivander's hands. His face was stern and his eyes were narrowed. "I must insist that you both leave at once," he said. "You are underaged wizards, and I'm sure you realize that dueling is strictly prohibited. Not to mention the damage you could do to my shop."

Harry relaxed a bit, and he nodded to Mr. Ollivander. "Sorry-"

Draco rammed his fist into Harry's stomach.

Mr. Ollivander muttered something, and the boys disappeared and reappeared outside the wand shop. Through the dingy shop windows, I could see Draco punching Harry viciously in the face. I ran to the door and stuck my head out. People began to clump together on the street, watching as well. A few boys rushed forward and yelled, "Get him, Harry!"

"What luck! Pardon me!" A man with a huge camera pushed his way between the spectators. "This is for the Daily Prophet." A flash of light caught Harry and Draco rolling around on the ground, trying to break each other's hold. Harry's build was a little heavier than his opponent, but he lacked Draco's speed and ruthlessness.

"Oh my," Mr. Ollivander said at the window. "I haven't seen a good Muggle fight in ages."

"Do something!" I gasped. "He's going to kill Harry!"

"Boys will be boys," Mr. Ollivander told me, still holding the wands in his hand. "Especially when it comes to fighting over a pretty young lady." He smiled and winked at me. "Some things never change."

Eventually, when it became obvious that the fight wasn't an even match, some men broke the boys apart, pulling Draco off of Harry. Harry was a mess. His nose was bleeding, his lip was split, and he was certain to have a black eye or two.

Draco just arranged his clothing, brushed the dust off of them, and walked back into Mr. Ollivander's shop. The only part of him that was bleeding was his knuckles. His platinum hair was tousled, and he had dirt on his face, but other than that, he was fine. "Why were you with that stupid git?" He snarled in my face. "Why were you even talking to him?"

"He just showed me the way to the shop," I told him. "You didn't have to beat poor Harry up!"

That was definitely the wrong thing to say. "Poor Harry?" Draco turned on me like a viper. "Poor Harry Potter who has crowds of sniveling fans who kiss his arse because he happens to have a stupid scar on his forehead? Everybody loves Harry bloody Potter! I have been telling you how much I hate him, and the first thing you do when you're alone is go sucking up to him!" Draco's face twisted with fury. He kept stepping closer to me, forcing me to back up. I felt like running behind Mr. Ollivander.

"Oh!" I said shocked. "I didn't realize that was _him_! Professor Dumbledore just asked him to- Oh! I just ran into him at the bookstore. I mean-"

"Bloody hell. My father is going to kill me," Draco moaned. "I should never have left you alone!" After he had retrieved his wand from the shopkeeper, Draco grabbed me by my upper arm and began dragging me towards the door. With one hand he opened the door, and with the other, he struggled to keep his grip on me. Unfortunately, I was too small and light to break away from him. "We're going back to the Manor," he told me. "Now."

"I'm not going anywhere!" I tried to slap his hand away. "I'm not through shopping yet. I still want to go to the pet store. Let go of me!" I was quickly losing my temper, and soon I was shrieking a few obscenities at the top of my voice. The people outside the shop looked up in surprise.

"Stop making a scene!" Draco said, and slammed the door shut again. I could see that the crowd had not completely dispersed. Ron was there, talking to Harry and glaring hatefully in Draco's direction, and the man with the camera was still out there interviewing people.

"I'm making a scene?" My mouth dropped open at the unfairness of it all.

"Mr. Ollivander," Draco asked. "Could we please use your fireplace to floo home?"

"Certainly," Mr. Ollivander said. "It's in the back."

"I'm not going home," I said through my teeth, trying to break Draco's hold on me. My shoes slid on the floor as he half-dragged me, half-carried me toward the fireplace. "Help!" I said to Mr. Ollivander. "I'm being kidnapped. Aren't you going to do anything? Call the wizard police or something!" The man was really irritating me. He was probably waiting for us to leave so he could owl his friend Borgin and tell him every detail.

Mr. Ollivander just watched us with an amused smile on his face, as though we were the most entertaining thing he'd seen in a long while. "Oh, my dear, don't forget." He held up my shopping bag. "Your packages."

When we stepped out of the green fire into the Malfoy's receiving room, I tried to run directly to my room, but Draco grabbed me and pushed me down on the Malfoy's huge, velvet covered sofa. "You have humiliated me," He said, towering over me. "In public."

"Ha! You have some serious issues with Harry Potter," I told him. "No wonder he has so many friends and you don't. What are you, afraid that I'm going to like him more than you? Afraid that I think he's cuter than you are? I wasn't the one acting like a stupid, jealous-"I stopped.

The look on Draco's face was terrible. It was vulnerable and full of pain, and then it changed to one of utter rage. I had obviously hit upon a sore spot with him. His wand was pointed directly at me. I heard him snarl some words in Latin, and then a bright, red light shot out from his wand and exploded into my chest.

* * *

Many thanks to my wonderful reviewers!

Thank you, Chocoliciouz and Oberon!

Escaped: Wow- thank you for all your compliments? What would I do without you to inspire me? :-) Actually, when I was going to college in Fresno, CA., I had a boyfriend who had moved there from London. He was very wealthy, and he had to break up with me because his family expected him to marry a cousin. All of our friends were like "ewwww...gross." But I guess it's just a centuries- old and powerful tradition for some people in other countries. So, anyway, I'm not sure if I'm terribly insightful, or just have weird luck with men! HA! I guess that's where I kind of got this idea for my story.

Slate-One: Thank you for reading my story. This is my first one! You must have good taste, because I liked LadyRhiyana's stories too. I love the Malfoys, as well. I was hesitant about writing about an original character, but I really liked the Mirror of Erised, and I knew that SOMEBODY had to make it.

Rycca Wolfbane: Thank you, too! Hmmm... Maybe you think I should just have a foursome between Sev, Miriel, Draco and Harry, so everybody will be included! HAHAHA! Of course, Sev will be in the story, but isn't Miriel a little young for him? I am wondering now if I should include "all those buttons" on Sev's clothes just to torture you... 


	10. Chapter Ten

Chapter Ten

The world around me snapped into focus. I found that Draco was seated on the velvet sofa, and I was nestled in his lap. My body had melted into his, my arms were wrapped around his neck, and I was pressing little kisses to his face. He smelled so nice, with a faint trace of cologne that was spicy, like carnations or clove. It was a "rich boy" kind of smell.  
  
"You are absolutely adora-"I stopped, horrified. "What am I doing?" I cried. I began to panic, trying to squirm off his lap.  
  
"Hold on, you're not going anywhere," Draco smiled, his arms tightened around me. "You were just telling me how gorgeous and sexy I am. You see, Miriel, that spell was a variation of the imperious curse. It forces the person to act on their secret feelings, the kind that people even hide from themselves."  
  
"That's the creepiest thing I've ever heard. That's even worse than the silencing spell. Why would you do something like that?" I asked him shakily. He obviously had some massive insecurity problems, and for some reason they revolved around Harry Potter.  
  
"To know what your true feelings about me are. It seems you _really_ like me." He said this with a bit of surprise and wonder in his voice, as if this was something he had not quite unexpected. "I tried this on Pansy one time, and while she was under the spell she slugged me so hard I thought she was going to give me brain damage."  
  
"I don't like you!" I pushed against his chest as hard as I could, desperate to get away. "You are a horrible, spoiled, nasty, evil-" My arm flew out to hit him, but his hand was instantly there blocking it. I blinked at him in surprise.  
  
"This year Father hired me a trainer so I could learn Muggle fighting." Draco said, smirking. His gray eyes were bright with triumph. "My trainer is a vampire slayer, and he's teaching me how to fight a lot faster. Father's right, inflicting pain physically is so much more satisfying than using a wand." He sighed in bliss. "The look on Potter's face was priceless."  
  
"That is barbaric," I told him, injecting as much iciness into my tone as I possibly could. "Your spell is obviously a load of crap, because-"  
  
Draco pulled me closer against him. "That spell never lies," he muttered against my cheek. Before I could say anything else, his mouth captured mine. After a moment his lips softened and became warm and velvety. He was a great kisser, I had to admit, and he didn't kiss like a sixteen year old boy. His tongue stroked my lower lip, flickering smoothly inside my mouth. My hands had been pushing against his chest, but now they were slipping up into his hair, my fingers weaving themselves into the silky strands. I lost all sense of time as he plundered my mouth.

"Draco-"I gasped, breaking my mouth away from his.  
  
"What?" He asked, smirking. "Still think I'm a kid?" He proceeded to press light kisses along my jaw and then down my neck. A soft moan filled my throat, and I tilted my head back, allowing Draco further access as he sucked at the soft skin. His mouth had just found the sensitive spot at the base of my throat, when a mocking voice interrupted us.  
  
"I'm not one for Muggle sayings," Mr. Malfoy announced in his velvety drawl, "But I believe this one is appropriate- Get a room."  
  
I shrieked and flung myself off of Draco's lap, landing back onto the sofa. Mr. Malfoy stood there looking down at us, smirking with amusement. He had obviously just arrived home from his business meeting. He still carried a black leather briefcase. His long, black robes fluttered about him, and his silvery hair was rather windblown. We had been so distracted, we hadn't even heard him floo in.  
  
"Hello, Father," Draco told him calmly. His lips were swollen, and his hair was poking up in every direction, but otherwise, he looked composed.  
  
I was sure my face was bright pink. I stared at Mr. Malfoy's boots, too stricken with horror to speak.  
  
"Well, it appears that both of you have had a pleasant day. Draco, I'd like to see you in my study when you're...finished." Mr. Malfoy arched an eyebrow and walked towards the hallway, a rather smug smile on his face. Obviously he hadn't heard anything about Draco's fight with Harry Potter in front of Ollivander's shop.  
  
Of course Mr. Malfoy was happy to catch us making out, I thought. He wanted to marry me off to his son. I covered my face with my hands. "Oh my God," I moaned. "What am I doing?" I jumped up from the sofa and grabbed my packages. At the last moment before leaving the room, I turned.  
  
"And just so you know," I told Draco, "I will never, ever marry you- not even if your dad and the Dark Lord himself threaten to curse me off the face of the earth!" Feeling a flash of satisfaction at the look of surprise and dismay on the boy's face, I ran to my bedroom.  
  
Once there, I curled up on my bed and sobbed into my pillow. It was all just too much. So much had happened in the last few days. I hadn't even had time to be homesick or to process things much, and now I felt overwhelmed and exhausted. I hadn't even had time to say goodbye to anybody in New Orleans, and I had a sense of needing closure with my friends and the few people who had been kind to me after my mother had died. They probably thought I had been kidnapped or killed by now. Pieces of my conversation with Professor Dumbledore came back to me. I found myself wishing that he had taken me back to Hogwarts with him, where I would feel safe. I could have had friends there, and talked to Harry and anybody else whenever I wanted to without them getting the tar beaten out of them. I really longed for someone to hold me and tell me that everything was going to be okay.  
  
I pulled out the welcoming package that Professor Dumbledore had sent home with me. In the back of "The Complete Dummy's Guide to the Wizarding World," there was a glossary of beginning spells. Taking out my new wand, I tried the spell that would restore the items to normal size. "Engorgio," I whispered. To my delight, the toy dragon turned out to be huge. It was soft and green and had iridescent wings, and I hugged it to myself as I curled up on the enormous bed.  
  
After awhile, I heard someone knocking on my door, and it opened.  
  
"Miriel, what do you mean you won't marry-"Draco's voice changed from indignation to panic. "What are you doing? Are you crying? For Merlin's sake, don't cry!"  
  
"Go away," I sniffed miserably. I looked up to see his frightened face. Honestly, I guess people in his family never cried. I couldn't imagine Mrs. Malfoy ever crying or being sad. The cold witch would probably just curse whoever was bothering her into oblivion and go on her merry way.  
  
"I'll take you back to Diagon Alley if you weren't finished shopping," He said, obviously unsure of himself. "We'll go to the pet shop. We'll get you any kind of familiar you want."  
  
I rolled my eyes in disgust. "Don't be such a dumbass."  
  
"Well, what's wrong?"  
  
"What's wrong is that you keep casting nasty, horrible spells on me. You probably bruised my arm dragging me around like that. You're a control freak. You are just like your father." I threw this last part out hatefully like a curse, knowing that was the one thing teenage boys hate to hear.  
  
"I'm nothing like my father!" Draco wailed. "And I didn't seriously hurt you or anything. I wouldn't do that."  
  
I sat up on the bed and wiped my eyes, trying to think of a way to explain things so that he could understand. "Do you remember in New Orleans, when you were lost without your wand? Do you remember how you felt when those guys who were drunk outnumbered you, and they hit you?" He had looked absolutely miserable when I found him on the bench.  
  
"It was awful." His face became unusually thoughtful. "It was...humiliating. I felt helpless, and angry. It infuriated me that those bastards had control over me. I hated being lost. I wished that my father was there to protect me."  
  
"That's how I feel. I don't like being controlled any more than you do. I don't like feeling helpless and scared, either."  
  
Draco's face was sullen and sad. He sat on the edge of my bed with a sigh. "So that's it. You feel like a Muggle. I didn't think about it like that." After a few moments, he said, "I'm...I'm sorry." The words seemed to stick in his throat as though he wasn't used to apologizing. He picked at the embroidery on my bedspread. "I guess I just forgot that you're not a Slytherin."  
  
"What do you mean by that?"  
  
"You don't even go to my school." He swallowed, and crossed his arms over his stomach as though he found talking about it to be painful and difficult. "At school I have to control the Slytherins all the time, or they'd turn on me. I have to bully them into obedience. And my house expects me to intimidate the other houses, especially Gryffindor. If I don't, my house won't respect me."  
  
"So let me get this straight. You have to bully people all the time at school?" I was curious in spite of myself. "You sound like you're in charge of the Slytherins or something."  
  
"Well, in a way I am. The Slytherin house is full of purebloods, and their parents support the Dark Lord. I'm sure Potter couldn't wait to tell you all about _that_." A flash of irritation crossed his face. "My father has the most power and influence with the Dark Lord, so it's an unspoken rule that I'm in charge of the Slytherin house. Crabbe, Goyle and Blaise used to be my friends when we were little, but since the Dark Lord returned... it's just gotten really political. My housemates either fear me or they want to suck up to me because their parents want favor with my father. The Slytherins can be treacherous, ambitious and sneaky. It's what they're known for. It's almost impossible to know how they really feel about anything. They're great actors. I think they probably all secretly hate me. I know I do them."  
  
"I can't imagine living like that," I told him softly. "You must be really lonely."  
  
Draco studied my bedspread intently and wouldn't look at me. "It's just...you're the best thing that's happened to me in a long time," he finally said, and his voice was so soft and low, I had to lean over closer to catch his words. "I can't stand the thought of you liking that stupid git, Potter. He has enough friends. Even Granger and Weasley, as pathetic as they are, are so loyal to Potter, they'd do anything for him._ I've_ never had that."  
  
"Draco, you sound like you want to marry me," I told him. "But you don't even know me very well."  
  
"I know that you don't want anything from me, and that you wouldn't hurt me. I feel...safe around you. I also think you're quite shag-worthy," he said with a small grin.  
  
"Shag-worthy?" I said. Was that some kind of British compliment?  
  
"That's more than I thought I would ever have. Pureblood parents usually arrange their children's marriages when the children are still little. My parents arranged for me to marry Selene- that was Professor Snape's niece- but she died before I left for Hogwarts. It's been hard for them to find someone now that I'm older. My mum has been trying to push me toward Pansy Parkinson, but I can't stand that stupid wench. And Millicent Bullstrode- ugh!" He shuddered. "She could win me in a wrestling match."  
  
"Draco, if you want me to like you, you're going to have to be a hell of a lot nicer and more respectful to me. You'd better remember that I'm not in slytherin. And as far as marriage goes, I'm really scared about it. I don't think I can do it." I chewed my bottom lip, and I had a hollow feeling in the pit of my stomach just thinking about it. "I mean, you're cute and everything..."  
  
"And don't forget that I'm rich, sexy and powerful," Draco said with a smirk.  
  
"But I'm only nineteen. I'm not ready to get married."  
  
"We'll wait until I graduate from Hogwarts, of course, so you'll have a year or so to get used to the idea. Just think of it. Someday we'll have a castle all to ourselves. It'll be so romantic. I'll replace the house elves with Granger and Weasley. I'll be spending my time torturing Potter down in the dungeons, and you'll be busy having cute little babies that'll look just like me!" He laughed at the scenario he conjured up.  
  
"Babies? Oh my God!" I rolled my eyes and buried my face in my dragon. "Don't even talk about that. Aren't you scared about it at all?"  
  
"I've always known it would be this way," He told me, shrugging. "I'm the only Malfoy heir, so it falls to me to keep the family going. Come on, it won't be so bad, will it? It might even be fun." He leered and wriggled his eyebrows at me. When he saw that he had failed to cheer me up, he became more sober. "Listen to me, Miriel. Don't fight my father about this. I know that he likes you, but he won't tolerate disobedience. He's used to getting what he wants. And for Merlin's sake, don't tell him you talked to Dumbledore."  
  
I smiled weakly at him. "I think I need to be alone for a little while, Draco. Maybe I'll go read in the library." I had always found books to be quite relaxing. There was something about them that was comforting. No doubt it had something to do with my mother reading so much to me when I was a child.  
  
"Okay, but my father wants to see you in his study pretty soon. He said he'd send a house elf for you when he was ready. He went to Gringott's today and opened an account for you. I think he's about to owl our engagement announcements to everyone, and my mother is also planning an engagement party." Draco leaned over and kissed me gently. "It will be okay, Miriel," he murmured. "I'll really try to make you happy. I won't be like my father. I won't."  
  
I was in the library, reading one of the "Dummy's Guides" and sucking on lemon drops when Twinky popped in to guide me to Mr. Malfoy's study. I had been dreading talking to him again, ever since Professor Dumbledore had told me that he had killed my father. I wasn't sure if I despised Mr. Malfoy for it, or felt sorry for him. The fact that he was actively serving the Dark Lord really made my skin crawl.  
  
Mr. Malfoy was busy with a quill, scratching out figures in a big, leather bound book. There were piles of parchments and paperwork all over his enormous desk. I sat down in a soft, leather chair, balancing my book and bag of candy on my lap. The office was full of books, and he obviously collected magical items that he displayed on the shelves.  
  
"Here is the key to your vault at Gringott's," He said, handing me an envelope. "Now remember, if you wish to withdraw money from your account, you need to bring the key with you. The bloody goblins won't even speak to you without it."  
  
"Thank you, Mr. Malfoy. I don't have any way of repaying you."  
  
He smiled. "My dear, you pay me with your beautiful presence. I must say, your appearance has improved remarkably. I almost thought for a moment today that my son had brought some strange girl home." I could tell by the glint in his eye that he was teasing.  
  
I smiled, and quickly looked down at the book on my lap.  
  
"Are you alright, today, Miriel? You seem rather...apprehensive. I would have thought that all that shopping would have put you in a good mood."  
  
I drew a deep breath. "I have to admit that I'm not really sure about getting married. It really scares me to think about it. Maybe Draco and I could have more time to know if we'll get along..."  
  
"You seemed to be getting along well enough today." He smiled and brushed my concerns away with a wave of his hand. "My dear, everyone is naturally quite nervous about marriage. Even those couples who profess to be deeply in love feel a certain amount of apprehension about it. I sense that something else is troubling you. You do have the most transparent face I know."  
  
I looked up at him, stricken. As in New Orleans, I again had that spooky impression that he could see inside my mind with those silvery eyes, and know what I was thinking.  
  
He stood from his chair and approached me slowly, his black velvet robes swirling around his legs. "If I didn't know better, Miriel, I would say that you were even frightened of me." His gray eyes held mine steadily.  
  
I fingered the bag of my candy nervously in my lap, and the cellophane crinkled.  
  
It caught Mr. Malfoy's eye. "What is that you have? Boiled sweets?" He picked the bag up. "Muggle sweets. In the shape of...lemons."  
  
I nodded. "They're lemon drops."  
  
"And where did you get these?" Mr. Malfoy's voice took on a hard edge, and his eyes became positively frosty. He crumbled the bag in his hand and flung it to the floor. His lips twisted into a snarl.  
  
"Um..." My mind scrambled frantically for something to say.  
  
"Don't try to lie to me." He gripped my jaw with his hand, and tilted my face up to stare deeply into my eyes. "Dumbledore." He spit the name out like a curse. "You have been in contact with that meddling, conniving, hypocritical old man. He used to offer me this bloody candy at Hogwarts every damned time I was called into his office!" Mr. Malfoy began to pace back and forth in the room, like a wild animal trapped in its cage. "What did he tell you?" He finally snarled at me. "As if I didn't know."  
  
"That you serve the Dark Lord," I whispered, hugging my book to my chest as though it was a shield. "And that you killed my father."  
  
I gasped as Mr. Malfoy turned and smashed his fist through a mirror on the wall. It was scary enough when Draco was angry, but he was only a pale imitation of his father. I stood and was about to make a run for it, but Mr. Malfoy grabbed his cane and with a bloody hand, whipped his wand out. "Sit down," he screamed.  
  
I perched on the edge of my seat. My heart pounded rapidly, and I wished to God that I was anywhere else but there.  
  
The wizard proceeded to curse and shatter everything that was breakable in his office with his wand, even shooting the glass out of the windows and breaking the strange crystal spheres that lined his shelves. With every explosion I jumped, wondering when he was going to turn on me.  
  
But finally Mr. Malfoy stopped and drew a long, ragged breath. His office was in shambles, and there was broken glass everywhere. "Where was my son," He asked me. "While you were having your little chat with Dumbledore? Why did he not inform me of this?"  
  
"He was at "Quality Quidditch Supplies," I said breathlessly. "I told him to go, because he didn't want to go into the beauty shop, and-"  
  
Mr. Malfoy raised his hand, stopping me. "My son is an idiot, and he does not listen to me. He never listens. And it doesn't help when his drunk of a mother coddles him. If he doesn't learn some kind of responsibility and begin to act like a man, I fear he will end up in an early grave. But I will deal with him later."  
  
"I was forced to kill Gaius, or the Dark Lord would have killed both of us," he told me. "But it was Dumbledore and your mother who were ultimately responsible for my brother's death. I seriously doubt that the old fool told you that. Gaius was a loyal Death Eater, and somehow Dumbledore changed him. He did something to lure my brother away from his loyalties. The brother I knew would never have let Miranda escape. What else did Dumbledore say to you?"  
  
"Just that he wants me to go to Hogwarts."  
  
Mr. Malfoy studied my face intently, once again searching my eyes. "There's something else that you're hiding from me," He said. "Something about...Harry Potter."

* * *

Thanks to my wonderful reviewers (smooch smooch, hug hug)


	11. Chapter Eleven

Chapter Eleven  
  
A flutter of wings caught my eye. An owl floated through the broken window of the office, carrying a red envelope. I assumed the bird would fly to the wizard, so I was surprised when it landed gently on my knee. I looked to Mr. Malfoy. He seemed just as confused as I. I gingerly picked the envelope out of the bird's beak.  
  
"That is a howler," Mr. Malfoy announced. "But who would be sending..." He stuffed his fingers in his ears.  
  
A split second later, I knew why. I thought for a moment the envelope had exploded. A roar of sound filled the room and probably would have shattered all the windows if Mr. Malfoy hadn't just broken them himself.  
  
"—DRAGGING MY SON'S NAME THROUGH THE MUD IN THE DAILY PROPHET! WHAT WERE YOU DOING WITH THAT POTTER BOY, YOU LITTLE TRAMP? IMAGINE MY HORROR AT FINDING OUT AT MY ST. MUNGO'S CHARITY BALL PLANNING COMMITTEE! I COULD HAVE DIED OF SHAME--"  
  
Mrs. Malfoy's voice, screeching a hundred times louder than usual, made my ears hurt. I gaped at Mr. Malfoy in horror. News must travel very fast in the wizarding world.  
  
"—YOU JUST WAIT UNTIL I GET HOME, YOU LITTLE WITCH! MY POOR SON! I AM GOING TO HEX YOUR—"  
  
I didn't get to find out exactly what part of my body Mrs. Malfoy was going to hex, because the red envelope suddenly burst into flame. With a gasp I dropped it on the floor, where it curled into ashes.  
  
"The Daily Prophet?" Mr. Malfoy asked. He immediately began searching through the papers on his desk. "That arrived a short time ago, but I was too occupied to read it." He finally found the newspaper and unwrapped the ribbon around it. After studying the cover of it, he turned to me with an angry snarl. "How in Merlin's name do you explain this?" He shoved the front of the newspaper into my face.  
  
The newspaper headline read: THE DAILY PROPHET- SPECIAL EDITION. THE BOY WHO LIVED AND HIS TRAGIC TRIANGLE OF LOVE.  
  
"Triangle of love? My eyes widened with surprise. "What does that have to do with me?"  
  
Underneath the headline was a colorful, moving photograph of Draco slugging Harry in front of Ollivander's shop. There was also one of Draco trying to drag me through the shop doorway. My little photograph self was shrieking at him. If I had known I was going to have my picture taken, I would at least have closed my mouth.  
  
Towering over me, Mr. Malfoy began to read the article aloud, forcing the words through his clenched teeth. "Harry Potter, the hero who has suffered a tragic past, has at last found love, and is willing to fight for it! He was seen in Diagon Alley early this afternoon escorting a stunningly pretty girl who was discovered to be a long lost heiress of the Silverthorn family."  
  
"Stunningly pretty?" I was flattered in spite of myself.  
  
Mr. Malfoy shot a glare at me, and continued to read. "A close friend of the couple, who wishes to remain anonymous, informed this reporter that the young lady is betrothed to none other than Draco Malfoy, son of the wealthy philanthropist, Lucius Malfoy. "Boys will be boys," My informant told me, when asked about the Muggle duel that ensued between the young rivals. "I saw Mr. Potter place his arm tenderly around Miss Silverthorn as they looked at her new wand, and I knew that love had blossomed." Sadly, Mr. Potter was brutally beaten by his opponent, but this reporter is convinced that The Boy Who Lived has triumphed over many such obstacles in his young life, and that this challenge will only fan the flames of his passion."  
  
"Flames of passion?" I said, raising my eyebrows.  
  
Mr. Malfoy flung the paper down on his desk. "What...were...you...doing...with HARRY POTTER?" He yelled, making me jump.  
  
"I didn't realize who he was," I told the wizard hastily. "Harry was just showing me to the wand shop, and-"  
  
"You just happened to run into Harry Potter? There are hundreds of wizards running around Diagon Alley, and you just happened to run into that brat?"  
  
"At the bookstore. Professor Dumbledore asked him to show me-"I stopped, remembering too late that that was the worse thing I could possibly say.  
  
"That doddering old fool is behind all of this!" Mr. Malfoy snarled. He began to pace once more, and I was afraid he would erupt into another fit of rage. You'd think he'd be getting tired out by now.  
  
"Um, I don't see how," I told him tentatively. "It was an accident that Harry was in Flourish and Blotts."  
  
"Whatever it was, Dumbledore attempts to use every situation to his best advantage. He may seem only like a harmless, kindly old man to you," Mr. Malfoy said. "But he is conniving, and far from innocent. And while all of this love was "blossoming" between you and Potter, Draco was nowhere to be found!" Mr. Malfoy clapped his hands and bellowed for a house elf. When one popped in cowering and bowing, the wizard said, "Bring me my son. Now!"  
  
Mr. Malfoy wiped his face with his hands. His face was white, and I saw that his hands were actually trembling.  
  
"There's nothing to the story," I assured him. "Really. Draco attacked Harry for no good reason, and the newspaper just exaggerated everything to make it more interesting."  
  
"You do not understand," Mr. Malfoy told me, and his silvery eyes narrowed. "It makes no difference whether the story is true or not. The Dark Lord is obsessed with Potter. The entire wizarding world could be overrun with Muggles, and that brat is all the Dark Lord cares about." His voice was laden with resentment, and I had the impression that this was something that had bothered him for some time. "Anything that Potter does captures his interest. Now thanks to this ridiculous article, you will soon be capturing his interest as well. Now it is my duty to run and inform the Dark Lord of today's events. I only hope that someone else hasn't already done so. It always makes him more suspicious of me when others have the first word. It seems to trigger dramatic episodes of paranoia."  
  
I felt sick to my stomach. "You mean that he didn't know about me before?"  
  
"I was not following my Lord's orders when I went to New Orleans," Mr. Malfoy told me. "I was acting on my own behalf. No doubt he will summon me shortly, after your little escapade today, and I will end up having to give an account of all my actions."  
  
The next question stuck in my throat. "Do you think he'll want me to become a... Death Eater?"  
  
"Good gods, no. Wherever did you get that idea?" Mr. Malfoy looked at me strangely. "With the exception of my _charming_ sister-in-law, Bellatrix, the Dark Lord does not usually approve of women serving him in that capacity. He does not trust women. He believes them to be weak and unpredictable. He values them more as pureblood breeding stock. No, you are rather useless to the Dark Lord right now as a servant. You are as ignorant as a Muggleborn first year."  
  
"Will the Dark Lord make you kill me?" I whispered, finally giving words to a fear I had been harboring since my talk with Dumbledore.  
  
For the first time, some of the anger seemed to drain out of him. "I do not wish you to be harmed," Mr. Malfoy finally said, and for a moment I saw a genuine flash of something like concern in his eyes. "The way to survive the Dark Lord, Miriel, is to be obedient and useful. I have spent many years being just that. Right now your usefulness lies in getting married to my son, and producing little, future Death Eaters who will someday serve the Dark Lord. That purpose right there should ensure your survival."  
  
"Ugh. That's a horrible thought." I couldn't stand the thought of any children of mine serving the Dark Lord. It was very depressing.  
  
"Your husband will be a Death Eater when he comes of age, my dear, so you'd better get used to the idea."  
  
"Draco? Does he want to become one?" I began to tell him my doubts about that, but instantly found that I could not do so. I guess Draco's silencing spell was holding up quite well.  
  
Mr. Malfoy snorted, but I didn't get to find out what he was about to say, because at that moment, Draco appeared in the doorway. "Father?" He glanced anxiously in my direction, and something in my face made him step back from Mr. Malfoy uneasily.  
  
With a hiss of a spell and a jab of his wand, Mr. Malfoy sent his son shooting backwards through the air. Draco slammed against the wall behind him, and slid down to the floor. The impact was so great that it was a surprise that Draco had not been knocked unconscious.  
  
"You are an imbecile," Mr. Malfoy shouted down at him. "For not following my orders. For not listening to me. For making a public disgrace of yourself. You were seen in a public brawl, fighting like a common Muggle." He grabbed Draco by the collar of his robes and pulled him up. "If you insist on acting like a Muggle," The wizard hissed in his face. "I will treat you as a Muggle."  
  
A look of fear covered Draco's face. "No, Father. Don't! I hate the dungeons!"  
  
"Let him go," I pleaded, and tugged at Mr. Malfoy's arm. "You're not going to do anything horrible to him, are you?"  
  
Mr. Malfoy shoved me away from him. "It's none of your bloody business how I discipline my own son," He snapped. "Stay out of this, or you will find yourself sharing his fate."  
  
With a loud popping sound, they disapparated.  
  
For a strange, intense moment I relived the painful feelings I used to experience back in New Orleans while watching my mother's boyfriend hit her. I again felt the helplessness and the rage. I couldn't bear to think of Draco being abused. I chewed on my new manicure and wondered what I should do.  
  
The entrance down into the dungeons was a long ribbon of steps that was cut into stone. I hesitated there, and from down inside the maze of tunnels, I heard the boom of a heavy, metal door slamming. I could hear Mr. Malfoy's curses and snarls echo down through the stone corridors. This went on for quite some time. Strangely enough, I didn't hear Draco scream or anything, so I guess he wasn't being tortured.  
  
The tapping of footsteps echoed up the stairs, and Mr. Malfoy pushed his way past me, clutching his arm with his hand and grimacing as though he was in great pain.  
  
"What did you do to Draco?" I asked him.  
  
"My Lord is summoning me," He told me, his voice oddly flat. "I must go immediately." A strange transformation overtook him. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and it seemed to me that all emotion left him. It was as though all feeling and warmth escaped his body, and his face became like white stone. His eyes became shards of gray ice. Without saying anything more, he left.  
  
The dungeons were not anything like the ones I had seen in movies. The stone walls were white, for one thing, and the flecks of gold that ran through them glittered in the torchlight as I walked along the corridor. I smelled water and dust, but the floors were almost too clean. It was a confusing maze of tunnels and prison cells more than anything. I certainly did not want to become lost.  
  
"Draco?" My voice sounded weak, and bounced off the stone walls.  
  
"I'm in here!" A muffed voice came from behind a heavy door that looked like it was made of solid iron, and there was only a tiny slit of a window cut into it. I could barely see one of Draco's eyes. "Bloody hell, I hate it in here," He said. "It's not fair. I didn't know that the Daily Prophet was going to make up a lot of rubbish. It's all Potter's fault."  
  
"Are you okay?"  
  
Draco gave a heavy sigh of relief. "Yeah, this room has a timed-release spell on it. Father puts me in here to give himself time to cool off. He's afraid that if he punishes me magically when he's this angry, he'll lose control and end up killing me. Usually the spell is set to open the door in two or three days, but I'm supposed to go back to Hogwarts tomorrow! I wonder if he forgot..."  
  
"I think your dad needs therapy or something," I told him.  
  
"What?"  
  
"He has huge mood swings between being nice and losing his temper. Maybe he needs medication. Don't you guys have wizard psychiatrists who could help him with that?"  
  
"He's been like that since You-Know-who returned," Draco said. "He's gotten to be a nasty git since then, especially after he was released from Azkaban last year- that's a wizard prison. It's like there's two different sides to him. I think it must be all the stress he's under. My mum started drinking, too, and I think she's become addicted to prescription potions."  
  
"I was under the impression that your parents want to serve the Dark Lord."  
  
"At school during my third year, the Dark Lord released a huge basilisk into the school to get rid of the Mudblood students. But then he decided to forget all about the Mudbloods and go after Potter. It ruined the whole thing. Father is still resentful about that. One night I overheard my mum and dad talking. The Dark Lord has been going through a lot of magical transformations since he returned to the wizarding world, and my parents suspect this hasn't had a good effect on his state of mind. They think that he's becoming more and more mental." Draco whispered this last part, as though someone was going to overhear us. I had to put my ear up to the little window to hear him.  
  
"You're not going to try and put another silencing spell on me, are you?" I asked him suspiciously.  
  
"No. This door repels magic, for one thing. That's why I can't get out even though I have my wand. It even repels all the unforgivable curses. Father planned it that way. I am his only heir, you know." There was a sad note in Draco's voice, and it made me wonder for a moment how it would be to have Mr. Malfoy as a father.  
  
"Do you need anything before I go?" I asked him. I was feeling drained and exhausted by now. I was looking forward to relaxing in my room before bed. I felt sorry for Draco, but I was too tired to stay up all night long keeping him company.  
  
"There's a little sliding door at the bottom here," Draco said. "That's where the house elves bring food to me. Bring me my quidditch magazines, some chocolate biscuits, a pillow, and-"  
  
"Something tells me that your dad doesn't want you to have fun in there," I warned him. "You're probably supposed to be in there learning your lesson or something like that."  
  
"Don't worry, I'll transfigure them into something else before he gets back. He's usually gone all night when he's summoned."  
  
The rest of the evening was very quiet. I was relieved not to see any signs of Mrs. Malfoy. I fell on my bed and tried to push Mr. Malfoy's meeting with the Dark Lord out of my mind. Just thinking about it was enough to give me bad dreams. I brushed my hair out and put on a new, silky nightgown. It had been a busy day, to say the least, and when I crawled into bed, I fell asleep as soon as my head sunk into the pillow.  
  
"Missy! Missy! Master Snape is here!" A house elf squeaked, her voice high with a note of panic.  
  
"What?" I opened an eye sleepily. The lamp next to my bed had been lit, the little flame flickering a warm glow around the room. "Go away, Twinky." I pushed myself up on an elbow to glare at her. It must have been two or three in the morning! I drew my breath in with shock.  
  
A tall, lean figure, with long, black robes that billowed around him, glided across the bedroom toward me. He moved like a shadow. His long, glossy hair was so black that it gleamed purple. His face was half- shadowed in the lamp light, but I caught the impression of pale skin and harsh features. A mask dangled from his fingers.  
  
I gave a shriek and sat up so fast that I knocked my head against the headboard. "A vampire," I whispered, trying to rub the sleep from my eyes. I was obviously having a nightmare.  
  
The man looked down his large nose at me, watching me disdainfully for a moment with black, glittering eyes. "No, Miss Silverthorn." His voice was low and velvety, but cold. "Listen to me, and don't be a fool. The Dark Lord has requested your appearance."

* * *

Many thanks to my reviewers!!!  
  
Thank you, MerryDay and kitkat4495  
  
Escaped: Thank you, my fellow groupie ;-) for your nice review. Please let me know if this chapter is too silly. Whew! This was a very dramatic chapter. I felt like I was writing an episode of Wizard Jerry Springer ( I am seriously doped up on cold medicine right now, and I'm hoping it hasn't impaired my judgment where writing is concerned. I really didn't want to bring a scene with Moldy Voldy in it, but unfortunately, when you're writing from first person POV, your character has to be where the information is. It just isn't the same to hear about important stuff from another character after the fact. Anyway, I hope I can do a Voldy scene and not get overly-dramatic and cheesy. Cross your fingers!  
  
Chocoliciouz: Okay, young lady, I know you don't care if you're corrupted, but I looked at your bio and you're only 12 years old! I'm old enough to be your mama! Promise me you'll cover your eyes if Draco starts getting out of hand or using bad language! ( Yes, I think that Lucius probably can read minds, too, like Professor Snape. Spooky, huh?  
  
Rycca Wolbane: Thanks for your thoughts and your input. I hope everything is going well for you. I saw the movie "Troy" this weekend, and I suspect that Shrek2 was more entertaining and probably had better acting! Orlando Bloom was pretty cute, but still! I'm so excited about the Azkaban movie coming out. I even have my Hogwarts t-shirt ready to go!!! Maybe Alan Rickman will be even sexier in a dress and vulture-hat... 


	12. Chapter Twelve

Author's Notes: Hope I didn't make you hang on the edge of the cliff too long! I know your fingers are probably getting tired by now. This chapter was a little difficult to write.  
  
Please remember that Voldemort's Muggle father rejected his mother because she was a witch. She died, and poor, little Voldy was left an orphan. He still has "issues."  
  
The spooky skin idea I got from a time I visited a museum, and there was a display of lampshades and jackets that Hitler had made from the skin of Jews.

* * *

  
  
Chapter Twelve  
  
My entire body went cold, and I realized that I was, indeed, awake. It was a long moment before I could find my voice. "No, I can't. I won't!" I slid off the bed, backing away from the man. "Who are you? Where's Mr. Malfoy?"  
  
"I am Severus Snape. I believe that Dumbledore has mentioned me."  
  
"He said that you're a teacher, that he trusts you. But how can he, when you're doing something like this?" I panicked and ran passed him like a shot through the door. I ran madly and blindly, making it ten feet or so down the hallway.  
  
"Enervaro!"  
  
My legs suddenly stopped working, and I slammed to the floor. I lay there, paralyzed, my breath ragged with sobs.  
  
"I don't have time, Miss Silverthorn." In spite of his cool words, the man's hands were gentle as he scooped me up in his arms as easily as if I had been a child.  
  
"Don't do this," I sobbed against his shoulder. "Please don't do this. Please let me go. I'll do anything you want." I chanted with hysteria, and I would have been kicking and hitting him if I could have moved. My heart pounded so fast that I could feel my body shake against his chest.  
  
"The headmaster trusts me for a reason," Severus said. "My every intention is to help you survive this encounter, Miss Silverthorn, but I need you to dispense with the hysterics. I need you rational and able to focus." For some reason his calm, matter-of-fact voice cut through my panic. I was able to calm myself enough to listen.  
  
"I informed the Dark Lord of your presence shortly after your talk with Dumbledore," He continued. "Before Lucius had time to do so. I advised him of your potential usefulness at Hogwarts. Indeed, since the Daily Prophet has displayed evidence of your little 'romance' with Potter, it merely served to reinforce the validity of my claim."  
  
"Really?" I relaxed a tiny bit at hearing this. 

Severus started towards the floo room, his long legs quickly eating up the distance. "Lucius' meeting with the Dark Lord has not gone well for him," He said. "Your grandfather was in the process of creating a mirror known as the mirror of Emit. It was to be a companion piece to the mirror of Erised, only its purpose was to bring about the fulfillment of desires instead of merely recognizing them. When your mother served the Dark Lord, she attempted to complete it under his orders. The Dark Lord believes that she destroyed the mirror when she fled. He doesn't believe that anyone, not even Dumbledore, could ever have resisted using its power if it survived. Perhaps he suspects Lucius of searching for the mirror in New Orleans. This mirror could possibly destroy the Dark Lord. As you can imagine, he does not want anybody to believe that it could still exist."  
  
We stepped through two sets of green flames, and then we arrived in an open field. Severus took the paralyzing spell off of me, and set me down to stand on the ground. The moon was still a bright, silver crescent in the sky. Streaks of lightening flashed in the distance. The wind was cold, and blew my hair around. I shivered in my thin nightgown, and my bare feet felt cold in the wet grass. I saw a warm light glow from across the field, and I saw the black silhouettes of massive slabs of stone. They seemed to form a ring of some kind.  
  
"Where are we?" I asked. "I've seen this place before, in magazines and stuff."  
  
"We are still in Wiltshire, on Lucius' land," Severus told me. "The Muggles call this place Stonehenge, I believe, but it's been in the Malfoy family for centuries. It's not a good idea to surprise the Dark Lord by apparating directly in front of him. I'd rather step into the circle from outside." His hand pushed gently between my shoulder blades to move me forward.  
  
"Mr. Malfoy owns Stonehenge? But won't there be lots of Muggles around?"  
  
"This is the original monument, an ancient wizard astronomical calendar. When the Muggles discovered it, the Ministry of Magic set up a dummy prop for them and then obliviated them as to its original location. As of now these stones remain unseen by Muggles. The Dark Lord is quite fond of this place, as it is believed that Lucius' ancient ancestors sacrificed Muggles here." Severus' voice fell into a distracted, flat tone as he walked. I guess he was used to giving lectures as a teacher. I couldn't believe how calm he was about this whole thing.  
  
I wanted to ask him more about this, but just then I heard screaming. It was horrible, the kind of screams that make every muscle in your neck tense painfully just to hear them.  
  
"I can't do this!" I stopped, unable to move forward.  
  
"Listen to me," Severus told me, his hand gripping my shoulder firmly. "When you meet the Dark Lord, fall to your knees instantly and kiss the hem of his robes. Address him as "my Lord" or "my Master." Do not speak unless spoken to, and don't give him any cheek. This is very important, Miss Silverthorn- the Dark Lord is highly skilled at Legilimency."  
  
"What's that?"  
  
"It is the ability to extract feelings and memories from another person's mind."  
  
"How awful." I shivered. "Hey, I think that Mr. Malfoy can do that, too!"  
  
"This means that the Dark Lord will know if you lie. He will punish you immediately and may kill you if you do so. Perhaps holding an image in your mind that would placate or divert the Dark Lord could be useful. Dumbledore told me about your mother's lover. I believe the man was responsible for her demise?"  
  
"Yes. Karl killed her." A rush of painful memories flooded my mind. Once again I saw the police car pulling up to the house to inform me of my mother's overdose, the sad look on Karl's face as he claimed that he had no idea where she could have gotten the drugs, and her funeral at St. Elizabeth's. I remembered the hard, lonely months when I cried every night. I watched her lawyer deal with the shop's debts, knowing all the time that Karl had stolen much of the profits. I still felt the flush of embarrassment as I had to ask help from Sr. Angela and the other nuns who ran the shelter, taking home boxes of food when I ran short of money.  
  
"I assume that you harbor bad feelings toward him," Severus said. "I want you to focus on his image often as you stand before the Dark Lord, and on how much you hate this Muggle. Keep it very clear in your mind. Do not let your thoughts wander to anything that may provoke the Dark Lord. Remember this statement, Miss Silverthorn, Muggles are treacherous."  
  
"Muggles are treacherous," I whispered. Well, Karl had certainly been treacherous, that much was true.  
  
As we approached closer, I saw that the glow of light came from dozens of lamps that were suspended in mid-air. They floated eerily around the stones. Illuminated in the light were men in long, hooded robes and masks. The shadows the figures made were long and deep, and shifted eerily on the grass.  
  
On a low slab of stone sat who only could have been the Dark Lord. His robes were a light peachy-brown color and they were creased and wrinkled like parchment. Something about them made my skin crawl. The Dark Lord himself was a slender, tall man. Despite his red eyes he was most definitely human, though there was something..._off_ about him. He had dark hair, and smooth, white skin tightly stretched over an aristocratic bone structure. Perhaps as a boy he had been attractive. Strangely enough, something about him reminded me a bit of Harry Potter, or as he would be when he became older.  
  
Mr. Malfoy lay on the ground, his muscles convulsing as though he was in the middle of a seizure. His long hair was tangled and fell around his face. His hands dug into the grass like claws.  
  
"You assume too much, my slippery Lucius. No part of your life belongs to you, to do with as you see fit. I hope you will think twice before you try to keep things from me again." For no reason the Dark Lord laughed, a high, cold, mirthless laugh that didn't suit him. It made the hairs stand up on the back of my neck. A flicker of lightening streaked the sky, illuminating his features and making his red eyes gleam. Severus and I caught his attention as we walked into the circle of stones.  
  
"Severus, I see you've returned, with the daughter of worthless traitors." As the Dark Lord announced us, there was a rustle of robes as the Death Eaters grew closer. A feeling of anticipation hung in the air.  
  
Severus pushed me forward. I fell on my knees in front of the Dark Lord and kissed the hem of his robes. The material was leathery and thin, and whispered between my fingers. "My Master," I murmured.  
  
"A long-lost, pureblood child, returning to the wizarding world. How touching. To mark this special occasion, I have worn new robes." He stroked the material of his sleeve fondly. "Do you realize what these are made from?"  
  
"No, my Master." I glanced around at the ring of men around us, but it was impossible to know what any of them were thinking behind their masks.  
  
"Muggle skin." The Dark Lord's eyes gleamed and his smile was horrible. "And the hide of worthless wizarding scum who break their oaths to serve me, who scamper away like cowards, and betray me. Even their children should be cursed."  
  
A strange sort of giggle erupted from a short figure that hid in the shadows. The light from the floating lamps shone out of his eyes, and reflected off of what looked like a silver glove.  
  
"Wormtail understand all about debts," The Dark Lord said. "How difficult they can be to repay."  
  
I felt my stomach tighten with nausea. I was afraid I would vomit right there. I had actually kissed those horrible robes, and they were made from human skin! I felt a surge of disgust and hostility toward the Dark Lord. He might have looked human, but he was an insane monster. I glanced back at Severus. His face was set like stone and just as unreadable. I tried to do as he told me and focused on an image of my mother's boyfriend, channeling all the repulsion I felt toward it.  
  
"I can give you a chance to make up to me a small part of your parents' treachery," The Dark Lord continued. "You could never give back to me the Mirror of Emit, of course. It no longer exists." He glared at Mr. Malfoy, and then out toward his Death Eaters. "And it would be foolish for anyone to search for it. If I hear of anyone attempting to find it, they will be most severely punished."  
  
The Dark Lord turned to me again. "I would like to help further your education. My Severus is not the only one here gifted with the art of teaching. What do you know of the unforgivable curses?"  
  
"Um, I read about them in a book, my Master." I swallowed and tried to keep my voice from shaking.  
  
"Then you know of the Cruciatus curse, do you not? We'll begin with that. I have always believed that first hand experience helps one to remember the lesson well." He leaned forward and raised his wand over me.  
  
My eyes grew wide, and I flinched.  
  
The Dark Lord suddenly stopped, looking directly into my eyes. "Who is this man in your memories?" He asked me. "This Muggle that you hate so much?"  
  
"He was my mother's boyfriend, my Master."  
  
The wand slowly lowered. "Stand and come closer."  
  
When I had done so, he gripped my jaw with his hand, much as Mr. Malfoy had done, but the Dark Lord's touch was icy cold, like the touch of a corpse. The Dark Lord peered into my eyes, as if he was looking down into a deep well.  
  
"Yes," He finally told me. "Muggles are treacherous. This filthy Muggle made you an orphan." His voice hissed out as though he was tormented by the thought of it. "Muggle men treat witches like filth!" The Dark Lord withdrew his hand, and his eyes glazed over, as though he was watching a distant scene from the past. "You saw him as a potential father, but he betrayed you. He threw your mother away like she was a piece of trash, and he will never return to you. He will never be your father."  
  
I nodded, amazed that he was able to discern my feelings so well. These were things I had never told anyone.  
  
He then began to ask me questions about my mother's boyfriend. The Dark Lord asked what his full name was, and even where he lived in the French Quarter.  
  
"Lucius!" The Dark Lord said. "Do you know this place of which she speaks?"  
  
Mr. Malfoy pushed himself to his feet. He threw the hair out of his eyes, and shook himself out, but his eyes were clear and venomous. He nodded. "Yes, my Master."  
  
"Find this man, and bring him here. Now. Tonight."  
  
Mr. Malfoy retrieved his walking stick, bowed to the Dark Lord, and immediately dissapparated.  
  
"Come and sit here, my child." The Dark Lord motioned for me to sit at his feet.  
  
I huddled there against the foot of the stone, shivering. The cold dew from the grass soaked through my nightgown. The Dark Lord slid his long, bony fingers through my hair, petting me as if I was a dog.  
  
"Let me tell you what I want from you," He told me. "While we are waiting for your vengeance. You will be attending Hogwarts this school year. Classes have already begun. However, that old fool of a headmaster has graciously offered to have Severus supervise your tutoring until next term. Potter has obviously displayed an interest in you. I want you to become close to him and his friends, and inform me of everything. I would like very much to destroy someone close to the boy, perhaps that Mudblood girl or Weasley. Last year Sirius Black, who was Potter's Godfather, died. But I don't want to merely break the boy's spirit; This year I want to crush him..."  
  
"Excuse me, my Master," I said. "But how am I supposed to contact you? Do I write to you?"  
  
"My servant, Severus, is my informant at Hogwarts. He claims that he has not been able to get close to Potter, that Dumbledore does not quite trust him. Now he will have no excuse. Severus does seem awfully anxious for you to attend school there, instead of being locked away in Malfoy Mansion. I wonder if all his motives are purely for my benefit." The Dark Lord shot a look at Severus, who as usual, was standing there as still as a statue.  
  
Severus glided towards us. "I admit, my Master, that some of my interest in Miss Silverthorn attending Hogwarts is personal. The Mirror-Magi are, by nature of their craft, natural masters of potion making. I look forward to guiding a student with such a strong predisposition for the subject." Severus gazed down at me, and the look in his black eyes was almost hungry. "It would be a refreshing change from all the idiots I usually have to put up with."  
  
"Severus, that's the most passion I've ever seen you display toward a woman," The Dark Lord said mockingly. "And here I thought that ice ran in your veins. Very well, the girl is yours. You are responsible for her. Just make sure that you don't end up playing the role of Gaius to his Miranda." His eyes narrowed with the warning.  
  
I snuck a quick glance at Severus. His face, however, was completely neutral and impassive.  
  
"My Master, what of her engagement to Lucius' son?"  
  
The Dark Lord waved the question away with his hand. "Lucius can do whatever he wishes with the girl after I am finished with her."  
  
"Knowing Potter's heroic, Gryffindor-like nobility as I do," Severus told him. "I predict that he will want to rescue her from Draco's influence."  
  
Mr. Malfoy apparated into the circle with a pop, looking haggard and exhausted. He was not alone. He pushed a figure down onto the ground. The brown-haired man fell to his knees and looked wildly around him. He wore shorts and a tank top, which seemed terribly out of place. I had never seen anyone look so disoriented and terrified. It took him several long moments before he recognized me. "Miriel?" He asked. "What am I doing here? What in God's name--"  
  
"I can be generous with those who serve me well," The Dark Lord told me. "Consider this as a demonstration of my ability to show gratitude. This is a small gift, a token, for the service you will render me. Crucio!"  
  
Karl fell to the ground in convulsions, screaming as no one I had ever heard before. Even Mr. Malfoy hadn't screamed in such agony. Karl screamed for what seemed like an eternity until he passed out.  
  
I gasped for breath. It was as though I was suddenly split in two. Part of me felt a fierce satisfaction at seeing this man suffer. I had dreamt all those months of this man paying for what he had done. The other part of me was horrified that I didn't feel guilty. I heard echoes of Sr. Angela's admonitions about forgiveness.  
  
The Dark Lord looked at me expectantly.  
  
"Thank you, my Master. It's too generous of you," I managed to choke out.  
  
By the time that the Dark Lord had revived Karl two or three times, my satisfaction turned into pity, and then finally, into horror. Karl's mouth foamed with black blood, and he bled copiously from his nose, ears and eyes. His face became distorted to the point that I no longer recognized him. It seemed like the Dark Lord tortured him for hours. If that wasn't bad enough, the Death Eaters that surrounded us sounded highly entertained. Their laughter bounced off the stones around us, until it sounded as though there were hundreds of them.  
  
Finally, the Dark Lord paused and said, "And this, my child, is a demonstration of my punishment, what awaits you if you fail me." He raised his wand towards Karl once again. "Avada Kedavra!"  
  
I was blinded by a flash of green light, and then there was only silence.

* * *

  
  
Many thanks to all my reviewers!!!  
  
Thank you to Chocoliciouz, Eclipse of Stars, and Dragonwing!  
  
Nemblewhiska: Thanks for liking my story. I'd be flattered if you'd like to use the idea of Mirror-Magi or the name Silverthorn in your story. Please don't rip off Miriel, though- I'm kind of attached to her! If you used any detailed ideas from my story, it would be nice if you'd give me credit. I've probably unconsciously ripped off a lot of stuff from fan fiction stories I've read. I don't mean to, but things stick in my brain.  
  
SlateOne: Wow- all the ideas you sent me were great- and very complex. You are obviously more savvy about Fudge and the MoM than I am. If I use any of your ideas about how Lucius escaped Azkaban, I'll definitely give you the credit for them. You are very imaginative- Have you considered writing your own story? I think you should.  
  
Rycca Wolfbane: (LadyJenilyn takes out her sword, ExcaliburII, and lightly taps the reviewer on the shoulder with the long, glittering blade) I dub thee, Lady Wolfbane, a member of the Groupies of the Round Table! Okay, I'm getting silly- too much Monty Python. Thank you once again, dear lady, for your nice review. I can tell it's going to take Alan Rickman coming to your door (naked!) to convince you to finish your story.  
  
Escaped: Thank you, once again for your great review. I took after you in this chapter, and gave myself nightmares! I think that Voldemort would be kind of sexist, I mean he grew up in the 30's, where traditionally women stayed in the home, and outside of Bellatrix you never hear of any female Death Eaters. Yes, I think Miriel is a lot braver than I am! I think that a lot of times people who have been abused or who have seen abuse can be very passionate and brave about defending others, and in this case I think she felt that way about poor Draco. I think that Lucius has to totally suppress all emotion around Voldemort. I think of him as being abused by Voldemort, and Lucius kind of takes out his stress at home. Hmmm...I think that maybe I put way too much thought into everything. HA! I even gave Miriel her name because it kind of sounds like "mirror." Anyway, I appreciate all the great details in your reviews. Yes, indeed, you shall sit at the place of honor at the Round Table! :-)  
  
MerryDay: Thank you for liking my story. Yeah, sweaty, muscle-bound, armored, semi-naked bodies just aren't enough to save a movie! I'm a nerd and the highlight of my life right now is waiting for the Azkaban movie to come out. I can't imagine David Thewlis as Professor Lupin! That little moustache just creeps me out.  
  
Arsinoe de Blassenville: Thank you so much for reviewing my story. I appreciate it a lot. I really like your new story about the portrait, by the way, and I think it's very intelligent. I'm still laughing at "Oldyfart" instead of "Voldemort." 


	13. Chapter Thirteen

Author's Notes: Sorry for the late update. There have been lots of lightning storms and tornados around here, and the electricity keeps going off.  
  
The idea about Lucius exchanging information/ evidence for his release from Azkaban, the term "Serpentine Mudblood" as a reference to the Dark Lord, and Lucius' concern for his family all come from the rich imagination of Slate-One.

* * *

Chapter Thirteen  
  
The Dark Lord and his Death Eaters disapparated. The floating lamps vanished, and all I could see were black shadows and the sky dusted with stars. I could barely see the outline of the stones against the indigo horizon.  
  
"Lumos." A light blossomed from Severus' wand. He bent over to study the still form of Mr. Malfoy lying on the grass. He must have passed out during the meeting.  
  
"Lucius must be exhausted," The tall wizard muttered dryly. "Apparating across the ocean is draining enough without having been tortured beforehand."  
  
I was barely aware that he was talking. I still huddled at the base of the cold stone. I couldn't stop shivering. My feet had lost all feeling from sitting on them so long. In front of me laid Karl's corpse, and the cool, night air was filled with the metallic, tangy scent of blood.  
  
"Miss Silverthorn?" Severus asked in my direction. When I didn't answer, he walked over to me and knelt down on one knee. He pulled out a small, silver flask and held it to my lips. "Just a sip," he told me.  
  
The liquid raced down my throat like fire, tasting something like pepper and cinnamon with a dirty-sock aftertaste. I coughed. I sputtered. "What is that stuff?" I managed to gasp out.  
  
"It's an anti-trauma potion," He said. "Mixed liberally with whisky. I've always found it helpful after these little get-togethers. It seems to be the only potion that eases the after-effects of the Cruciatus curse, which thankfully, you were not forced to experience."  
  
To my amazement, soothing warmth flooded my muscles and I relaxed. My hands stopped shaking, and my mind cleared. "Did you know?" I asked him. "Did you know that the Dark Lord was going to do that to Karl?"  
  
Severus helped me to my feet, steadying me as I swayed against him. "The Dark Lord's all-consuming hatred for Potter and for Muggles has made him a bit predictable. I was not entirely sure of the outcome, of course, but any chance of deflecting the Dark Lord's wrath is worth taking." I felt rather than saw his dark gaze studying me. "Better him than you, Miss Silverthorn. Do not torment yourself with guilt."  
  
"I hated Karl and everything, but that-" I shuddered. "That was horrible. I never knew anything like that existed." For the first time, I wondered what it would be like to have that kind of power. I searched myself for feelings of guilt, but all I felt was a sense of closure.  
  
"Ennervate!" Severus pointed his wand at Mr. Malfoy. Mr. Malfoy woke, and sat up with a scowl on his face.  
  
Soon I found myself curled up in a chair in the Malfoy's receiving room, and I listened to the two men argue. Severus thought that Mr. Malfoy might have ruptured an internal organ from the Cruciatus curse, and we were now waiting for the family Mediwizards to arrive. I was too shaken up to even consider going to sleep. It was difficult for me to follow their conversation, not knowing the names of the people or the places they used. I couldn't tell if they were friends, enemies or perhaps both. It seemed they had known each other for a very long time, at any rate.  
  
It was strange to watch them together. Mr. Malfoy seemed cold, shiny and beautiful. Even sprawled out on the sofa, exhausted and in pain, he had a luminous quality about him. Severus, in comparison, most definitely did not. His angular features were quite plain. The Potions Master, however, had a beautiful voice, low and velvety and curling with subtle inflections. His mouth was also quite expressive. He moved with a grace that fascinated me. He gestured occasionally with his long, white hands while he spoke, and every movement was graceful and full of meaning.  
  
Severus' face was carefully neutral as he watched Mr. Malfoy, but his obsidian eyes glittered as though he was watching his prey. "I assume that Miss Silverthorn will accompany your son on the train to Hogwarts today?" He asked.  
  
"Draco is locked in the dungeons," I said. "He can't go anywhere."  
  
"Silence, Miriel." Mr. Malfoy shot a warning glance at me. "You are so pathetic," He told Severus, his lip curling in disgust. "Dumbledore certainly has you on a tight leash, doesn't he? Like a pet."  
  
"I'm sure I don't know what you mean," Severus said, his eyebrows arching in a parody of innocence. "Surely your own loyalties have been compromised from time to time."  
  
Mr. Malfoy glared at him. "What in Merlin's name do you mean by that?"  
  
"Only that I'm wondering how you managed to find a lead to Miranda's location after all these years. As a Mirror-Mage, she surely would have been registered with the Ministry of Magic, and it's no secret that those idiots would dearly love to have found her."  
  
Mr. Malfoy hesitated, and I thought for a moment that he wouldn't answer. "An associate at the Ministry happened to be vacationing in New Orleans, I believe, during Mardi Gras. He detected a mirror at a nearby market that bore Miranda's magical signature."  
  
"That was certainly convenient," Severus muttered.  
  
"What exactly is it that you are implying?" Mr. Malfoy snarled. "Just spit it out, Severus. You're beginning to waffle as much as that senile headmaster of yours."  
  
"I should think it would be obvious. For quite some time it seemed likely that you had Cornelius Fudge wrapped around your little finger. He certainly did his best to prevent the public from knowing about the Dark Lord's return. Now, I've been wondering what exactly you could have given him that would convince him to release you from Azkaban prison when no one came to rescue you. He risked bad publicity for doing that, you know. The gods only know that that is the one thing that he detests. Did you give him...oh, I don't know, information? Evidence? Or are you working for Fudge in some unofficial capacity now?"  
  
Mr. Malfoy's face turned red, as he struggled to rise, only to fall back again on the couch panting. "Don't...be...ridiculous! You know very well that I was released for a perfectly legal reason."  
  
Severus snorted. "An ancient law that Fudge dug up out of some scrolls, so old that nobody took it seriously anymore. You'll have to do better than that. It's no wonder that the Dark Lord has grown suspicious of you. In his eyes, you have failed him twice. Once in your failure to get the prophecy last year at the Department of Mysteries, and secondly, you withheld from him that you had found the child of his Mirror-Mage. How long do you think you can remain in the Dark Lord's good graces at this rate?"  
  
"This, for once, was not about that serpentine Mudblood!" Mr. Malfoy shouted. He pointed at me. "_She_ is about my family. The continuation of my centuries-old bloodline, a decent wife for my son, and honoring my brother's-"Here he caught himself, as if he had just revealed too much.  
  
Severus smiled, a glint of triumph in his black eyes. "You, better than anyone, should know by now that that 'serpentine Mudblood' doesn't care about your family. All he cares about is Harry Potter. Perhaps in the beginning, when we first joined his ranks, he was truly concerned about the preservation of our wizarding culture, but now..."  
  
"Forget that I said that. I am in a great deal of pain right now." Mr. Malfoy leaned back into the sofa, covering his eyes with his hand. All the anger drained out of him as though he were defeated. "I am obviously not thinking rationally or sanely at the moment."  
  
"To the contrary, old friend," Severus murmured, so softly that I wasn't sure if Mr. Malfoy could hear him. "I think you are thinking more sanely now that you ever have in the past."  
  
Just then the Mediwizards flooed into the room. Soon Mr. Malfoy was suspended horizontally in mid-air. His long, silvery hair floated around his face as though he was floating in water. Guided by the wizards, his body drifted down the hallway toward his room.  
  
"I must be getting back to the school. There are many supplies that you no doubt need to obtain, but we will worry about that later," Severus told me, moving toward the fireplace. He bowed slightly. "Miss Silverthorn."  
  
"Thank you," I told Severus. "I hate to think what could have happened to me tonight. And thanks for helping me to go to Hogwarts."  
  
A small, ironic smirk tugged at his lips. "Don't thank me yet, Miss Silverthorn. You have not yet had me as a potions instructor."  
  
After he left, I finally fell into bed. I was so wound up, that every time I closed my eyes, I saw Karl's face as he was being tortured. I must have finally fallen asleep, however, because the next thing I knew, something soft and warm nuzzled my cheek, like little kisses.  
  
"Hmmm..." I buried my face deeper into the pillow.  
  
"Having a bit of a lie-in, are we?" A voice murmured. Something warm and wet like a tongue slipped into my ear.  
  
"Aaaagh!" Wiping my ear with my hand, I opened my eyes to see Draco grinning down at me.  
  
"Go away." I hid my head under the covers.  
  
"That's not very friendly," Draco told me, bouncing on the bed beside me. "I've just spent a horrible night, on a cold, stone floor."  
  
I snuck a peek at him, and he actually looked well rested. Well, compared to me, at any rate.  
  
"Thank Merlin that dungeon door opened in time," He continued. "I guess Father didn't forget. I'm leaving for the train to go back to Hogwarts today. The house elves are packing my things. Maybe I'll be able to sneak off before Father wakes up. I'll be gone for a few more months before summer break. I'll be rather lonely without you."  
  
I didn't answer.  
  
"Maybe a farewell shag is in order."  
  
"Look." I threw off the covers and sat up. "I had a really terrible night. Much worse than yours could ever be. Forgive me if I don't feel very romantic right now."  
  
"Ugh." Draco looked me over. "You do look totally knackered. And what happened to your hair?"  
  
"What?" I touched my hair, and was horrified to find it in masses of huge knots. It looked like rats had been nesting in it.  
  
"You've got stone-imps in your hair. Hold still." Draco wriggled his fingers into my hair, and pulled something out. "See?"  
  
In his hand he held what looked like a tiny, grey fairy with iridescent wings. It didn't look very happy at being pulled out of its new home, and it screamed at me in a tiny, high-pitched voice.  
  
"They love it in people's hair because it's all warm and cozy." He attempted to throw the little creature out my bedroom window, but before he could shut it again, the thing whizzed back into the room at a blinding speed and dove once again into my hair. "They're really hard to get rid of. You can only find them around magical stone sites like Newgrange and the Mound of Hostages. But where..." Suddenly, Draco's eyes grew big, and his mouth fell open. "Or the ring of stones on Malfoy land! Merlin's balls, Miriel, what were you doing last night?"  
  
"It was horrible," I whispered.  
  
"You- you saw the Dark Lord, didn't you? You have to tell me everything."  
  
"I don't think you want to know. It'll just make you feel bad." Honestly, I really didn't think I was up to Draco's dramatics just then. "Maybe your dad should tell you everything."  
  
"No." Draco's mouth set firmly. "I'm not leaving until you tell me. Father doesn't tell me anything interesting. He thinks I'm indiscreet. He thinks I'll blab everything at school."  
  
I sighed. I told him about Severus coming to take me to the Dark Lord, and how the Dark Lord tortured Mr. Malfoy. I told him about how I was supposed to attend Hogwarts.  
  
"But Miriel, that's good, isn't it? That's what you wanted, and now we can- "  
  
"But Draco," I interrupted. "The Dark Lord said that I'm supposed to get close to Harry Potter and his friends. He thinks Harry is interested in me. I'm supposed to spy on Harry."  
  
"Get close to Potter?" Draco looked so green I thought he was going to be sick. "How close? Exactly?"  
  
I rolled my eyes.  
  
"All of this is Potter's fault." Draco's mouth tightened and his cheeks flushed red. "I hope that Potter went to visit the Weasleys this Spring break."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Because that means that he will be on the Hogwarts Express today returning to school, and I'm going to kill him." Furious, Draco ran out of the room.  
  
"Wait! Draco! What about my...hair?"  
  
I ran into my bathroom and studied my reflection in the mirror. My eyes were rimmed with red. How was I going to forget the sound of Karl's screams? How was I going to keep Draco from killing Harry Potter? How in the world was I going to comb the knots out of my hair?

To my horror, the stone-imps' tiny heads poked up through my hair to make nasty faces at me. I think there was even a baby imp. Their tiny shrieks of laughter filled the room.  
  
"Oh, my, Dearie," My enchanted mirror said. "You do have a bit of a problem, don't you?"  
  
"You have no idea," I told it.

* * *

Thanks to all my reviewers! (This is a rather abbreviated version, as it's three in the morning, and I'm really tired!) :-)  
  
Thanks to Shadowstar21, Slate-One, Arsinoe de Blassenville, and Dragonwing  
  
Eclipse of Starz- Don't feel bad. I'm blonde too.  
  
Chocoliciouz- Oooh, you're scaring me! Remember, IT'S JUST A STORY! (yeah, right, that's what I keep trying to tell myself)  
  
Escaped- Thank you so much for all your comments. I'm glad you think that all my obsessing isn't in vain.  
  
Rycca Wolfbane- You is a bad girl, Missy, for deleting LadyJenilyn's e- mail. Bad girl! I is telling Master Lucius to whack you on the head with his snakey pimp-stick! (That's my bad house-elf impression.) Thank you for your reviews. 


	14. Chapter Fourteen

Author's notes: I got the idea about the sliding glass doors on the Hogwarts Express from the new Azkaban movie.

The idea that there's a rumor at the Ministry of Magic that Dumbledore has the Mirror of Emit stashed away at Hogwarts is from Slate-One.

* * *

Chapter Fourteen 

"Twinky," I said. "I guess I'm going to Hogwarts today. Can you please help me pack my things?"

The house elf danced around excitedly. "Yes, yes, Missy! The train leaves at eleven." All the house elves seemed to love me, probably because I was the only one in Malfoy Manor that didn't kick, curse or scream at them. "Missy must dress as a Muggle to go to King's Cross station in London."

I slid into my jeans and a t-shirt. I searched the book of hair-grooming spells that the lady at the beauty shop gave me. I tried some of the anti- tangle and anti-knot spells. They worked immediately, but unfortunately, my smooth hair outraged the stone-imps, and they began making knots again in a flurry.

"Get out of my hair," I wailed at their reflection in the mirror. "You can't live in there forever, you know. My uncle is a very powerful wizard." This only earned me several rude noises and obscene gestures.

"This is disgusting!" I marched out of my bedroom. Surely since Mr. Malfoy had long hair, he must have had this problem before. I wondered how he was recovering from being tortured the night before. I felt like I should say goodbye to him, even though he hadn't been too happy about me going to school.

I quietly peeked into Mr. Malfoy's bedroom. Mrs. Malfoy had her own room, and I was relieved not to have to deal with her this morning. The Mediwizards had all left. Mr. Malfoy looked peaceful lying there with his eyes closed. I walked up to take a closer look at him. His hair splashed out onto his pillow like silver silk. I couldn't resist. I reached out and stroked it with a finger.

Mr. Malfoy's hand reached out and caught mine. I found his eyes open, watching me with some amusement. They were glossy, as though he had been tranquilized. He obviously hadn't been sleeping. "My dear, you actually look concerned for me." He smiled slightly. "You'll never be sorted into Slytherin at this rate."

"Are you okay?" I asked a bit anxiously.

"Yes, I have to rest a bit, and my Mediwizards have forbidden me to use magic for the rest of the day, but other than that, I'll be fine."

"That was horrible, what the Dark Lord did to you." I bit my lip, and tears came to my eyes. "How can you stand it? How can you stand living like this?"

To my astonishment Mr. Malfoy pressed my hand to his lips. "Pull up a chair, Miriel. Stop hovering over me. I've had Mediwizards fussing over me all morning. They've given me enough sedating potions to take down a hippogriff." He yawned.

I sat down. "I came to say goodbye before I left for Hogwarts, but, um, I seem to have a problem." I heard an explosion of tiny laughter coming from somewhere on my head.

He looked at my hair with a look of distaste on his face. "Obviously I need to teach you the method of eliminating stone-imp infestations. Twinky!"

Twinky arrived in a pop.

"Bring me a large magic-containment jar," Mr. Malfoy told her.

When Twinky brought the jar in and set it on the nightstand, Mr. Malfoy told me, "Take out your wand. Now point to your head, repeat the words, 'dimittero Proverti.' Then point your wand to the jar."

I had to repeat the words several times before I got them right, and then it felt like a miniature tornado ripped through my hair! The little stone- imps began shrieking, and to my amazement, they flew through the air in a spiral of wind, and were sucked down into the jar. I slammed the cap of the jar down on top of it. I didn't realize there had been so many of the little creatures. They were furious, hurling themselves against the glass and making nasty faces at me. The baby imp sat on the floor of the jar and cried. To my amazement, their bodies began to glow with a blue light, and tiny sparks crackled from their hands until it looked like I had entrapped a miniature lightning storm.

"Can I set them loose outside?" I asked.

But Mr. Malfoy was staring at my wand in wonder. The morning light from the window hit it, and it glittered and flashed in my hand, sending dizzying dots of colored light around the room."

"May I?" He held out his hand, and I slid the wand into it. "I've heard that very powerful Chinese wizards use wands made of jade, but I've never heard of a wand of adamant. How did you manage to pay for this? Did Ollivander add this to my account?"

"He gave it to me as an engagement present," I said.

A shadow passed over his features. "Ah, yes, an engagement that is, as of now, postponed. When asked about it, simply state that I have not yet made up my mind. Perhaps, since you were raised as a Muggle, I would like to see you prove yourself to me before I make a final decision."

I stopped myself from making a face. There was no way that I was going to tell people _that_.

"It would be wise if you did not...advertise the implications of this wand," Mr. Malfoy continued. "The Ministry of Magic would have you down there immediately, for one thing, while they did studies, took photographs and conducted an entire inquisition. They're very thorough, if nothing else. They even keep an extensive list of all the registered Silverthorn mirrors at Hogwarts."

"At Hogwarts? You mean, Professor Dumbledore has them?" I remembered that the headmaster had mentioned Silverthorn mirrors that I was heir to.

"Yes, after your grandfather disappeared into the Mirror of Emit, Dumbledore became the legal keeper of the Silverthorn family's mirrors. They're all stashed away at the school. There are rumors going around the Ministry that he is also secretly hiding the Mirror of Emit there as well. They've tried searching the castle many times, but have been unable to come up with anything."

"What exactly does the Mirror of Emit do?"

Mr. Malfoy's pushed himself up a bit on his pillows, and his eyes lit up as though he found the subject fascinating. "Your grandfather originally created it as a portal through time and space. He broke about a million of the Ministry of Magic's laws in doing this, of course. The Ministry considers time travel to be much too dangerous to play with. Supposedly, through this mirror, one could travel to different times and places. Obviously Silverthorn did not know what he was doing, because somehow he got himself trapped in the bloody thing."

"You mean, he's still there?" I asked, surprised. "He's actually trapped inside the mirror?"

Mr. Malfoy shrugged. "No one has heard from him since. I believe that Miranda attempted to draw her father back from the mirror, but she was unable to do so. It might have been that she simply did not have the amount of power that it required. Miranda attempted to modify the mirror for the Dark Lord, until one could communicate to other people in different times. In theory, the Dark Lord could actually have talked to a young Tom Riddle in the past, and in so doing, change the course of events."

I sat in silence, considering the implications of this. It was rather horrifying.

Mr. Malfoy sighed. "What could I do with such a mirror?" I looked over at him and his eyes were filled with regret. "What would I tell a younger version of myself?" He closed his eyes. I thought maybe he had fallen asleep, until his voice took on a dreamy quality. I leaned forward to catch his words. "I was quite young, younger than you are now, Miriel, when I became a Death Eater. My father was a harsh man, who was difficult to please. He was one of the Dark Lord's first and most passionate supporters. He firmly believed that the Muggles, with their developing technology, were a threat to our wizarding culture. Especially in the fifties, young wizards had begun to take an unhealthy interest in the new Muggle television, and this invention began influencing our language, music, clothing, and our very way of life. I joined the ranks of the Dark Lord mostly to gain my father's approval but also to help preserve our culture. The Dark Lord was very persuasive. By the time that I realized exactly what service to the Dark Lord entailed, I was trapped." Mr. Malfoy glanced at me, and something on my face made him pause. "What is it?" He asked. "What are you thinking about?"

"Nothing," I said. "I was just thinking about your story."

Mr. Malfoy looked into my eyes. "Do not believe that just because I am drugged up to my eyebrows that I am a fool. Now tell me."

I squirmed uncomfortably. I hated it that he could read my mind. "I just remembered something Dumbledore told me. I asked him where the Mirror of Emit was. He said that it wasn't, um, prudent to tell me. That's all."

"He didn't deny its existence?" Mr. Malfoy looked at me sharply. When I wouldn't meet his eyes, he changed tactics. "Miriel, wouldn't you like to see your mother again?"

I looked up at him with a start. "What do you mean?"

"The Mirror of Emit could give this to you. That mirror could change everything, destroy the Dark Lord, and give me back my life. The Dark Lord is too powerful for me, for anyone, to defy. In spite of that ridiculous prophecy about Harry Potter destroying the Dark Lord, the brat will never be able to pull it off. He's Draco's age, for Merlin's sake. It's only a matter of time until Potter follows his parents' fate."

"So you want me to find the mirror? And give it to you?" An uncomfortable feeling squirmed in the pit of my stomach. He had made it all sound so simple, but I had read enough novels to know that messing around with time was always tricky and unpredictable.

"Dumbledore obviously cares a great deal about you," Mr. Malfoy said. "He has no reason to distrust you. If you find me this mirror, Miriel, I swear that I will find a way for you to be with your mother again."

"Don't say that," I whispered. "Don't get my hopes up like that."

Mr. Malfoy smiled gently. "I realize that life must be getting very complicated for you right now," He said. "You're supposed to marry my son, who will one day live the same cursed life that I do. You're to spy on Harry Potter, become Severus' little protégé, and learn how to become a decent witch at that abominable school. I assure you, my dear, if you found the Mirror of Emit, everything could be sorted out." He glanced at the clock on the wall. "I'm afraid I'm tiring, and it's almost time for you to go. You and Draco will have to go by yourselves today."

"What about the stone-imps? Do I let them loose outside?"

"No, unfortunately, the imps are magically powerful for their size. They are extremely resistant to hexes and curses, as well. Unless they found another host immediately, they would find a way to return to you. Perhaps you should take them to school with you, keeping them in the jar, of course. When your new potions instructor provokes you to anger, you could inflict him with them." He chuckled as though he enjoyed the image.

"Why would Severus make me angry?" I picked up the glass jar, feeling its heat and energy under my fingers, generated no doubt by the imps.

"He's not terribly patient with his students. He's irritating enough outside of school, but at Hogwarts he acts like he has a broomstick up his arse."

"Thanks for warning me," I said sarcastically.

"Severus uses stone-imps' wings in some kind of hex-repelling potion, so he'd probably thank you... eventually."

"Ugh. I couldn't do that, then." I watched the imps through the glass jar. They had finally calmed down somewhat, although they looked very cranky. As aggravated as I had been by them, I couldn't bear the thought of killing them.

Mr. Malfoy rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. "You certainly do have heroic tendencies, don't you? Please tell the sorting hat that if it places you into Gryffindor, I will personally come to that school and throw the bloody thing into the nearest fire." He motioned for me to bend down and kissed me on the cheek. "Please remember what I've told you," he whispered. And then I left.

* * *

"I'm supposed to do what?" I stood in front of the barrier between platforms nine and ten. People jostled me on their way to the other platforms, and I couldn't help but feel a bit silly. "Are you sure that no one can see us do this?" 

"Just make a run for it, and you'll pass right through," Draco told me. "Don't stop and don't be scared you'll crash into it, that's very important."

I pushed my trolley around and stared at the barrier. It looked very solid.

Draco sighed with exasperation. "Look, I'll do it first, and then you follow."

To my amazement, Draco melted right into the bricks and vanished.

I was considering this, when suddenly I was surrounded by people with flaming red hair. The only one I recognized was Ron, Harry's friend. He looked at me with that same look of distaste that had been on his face in Flourish and Blotts, only this time it was amplified. A short, redheaded girl accompanied him. She shot a glare of pure hatred at me. Two tall, skinny twins grinned wickedly as if they knew that trouble was brewing.

"Look, Mum," One of them said to a plump, redheaded woman walking up behind them. "It's the 'scarlet woman' you've been talking about."

"Um, hi, Miriel," Harry said, appearing at their side.

"Harry!" I suddenly recalled all that the newspaper had said about us, and I felt my face burn with embarrassment. "I'm really sorry about- " I didn't even have time to finish my sentence, because the woman marched up to me and shook her finger in my face. I could tell by the grins on the twins' faces that they were enjoying this immensely.

"You! Who do you think you are? I hope you realize all the trouble you've caused poor Harry," The woman screeched. She wore a shabby dress with a crocheted beret on her head, but she was scarier than Mrs. Malfoy. I doubted that she'd ever need to use a howler. "Toying with the poor boy's affections. I don't care how rich and powerful your family is, you have no right to treat him that way. And that uncle of yours belongs in Azkaban! You-"

"Now, Dear!" A redheaded man who must have been her husband attempted to calm her down. "Harry has explained all about that. Miss Silverthorn was raised as a Muggle." The man turned to me. "Which, by the way, I find fascinating. Can you please tell me-"

"Arthur Weasley!" The woman shrieked. "How can you-"

Harry nudged me toward the brick barrier. His face was bright red. "Just go," he muttered.

I took a deep breath and pushed my trolley toward the barrier. In a moment I stood in an entirely different part of the train station. A scarlet steam engine was waiting next to a platform packed with people. A sign overhead said Hogwarts Express 11:00 A.M.

"That took you long enough," Draco said. "Come on, Crabbe and Goyle will put your luggage on the train." Two huge boys with vacant expressions stood on either side of him. They grimaced at me, and I suppose that it was their version of smiling.

I took a small, leather bag the house elves had given me onto the train. I had packed the jar with the stone-imps inside the bag, and had decided to give them to Severus. Maybe he would know of a way to set them free and they wouldn't end up in a potion.

Each train compartment was shut off by a sliding glass door, which gave the passengers some privacy. Draco and I made our way through the train, until we found an empty one. I relaxed into the seat, feeling a mixture of excitement and relief that we had made it on time. Draco and I ate the huge breakfast that the house elves had packed for us. Crabbe and Goyle joined us, and stared at us with sad faces until we finally shared the food with them.

I opened my bag to check on the stone-imps.

"Hey, you brought your little friends with you, did you?" Draco tapped on the glass jar.

"I wonder if they're hungry," I said.

"They don't eat food, so don't take off the lid, for Merlin's sake," Draco said. "They live off the energy that surrounds the stone sites. They're very active during lightning storms."

"Yeah," Crabbe said, his mouth full of pastry. I had never seen anyone eat so much food so fast. "We learned about those little blighters in Professor Lupin's class. He was a loser, but he knew a lot about imps and pixies and stuff."

After I had finally relaxed and eaten, my eventful night caught up to me and I began to feel sleepy. Draco was busy telling the two eating-machines his evil plans for Harry Potter, when I fell asleep on the seat. I was dead to the world until the train lurched and shook me awake. I blinked up, expecting to see Draco, but the compartment was empty. I glanced down at my bag.

The jar of stone-imps was gone.

I found Draco, Crabbe and Goyle outside one of the train compartments, shrieking with laughter.

"Look at 'em! Look at the Mudblood!" Draco cried.

I looked with horror through the glass door. Harry, Ron, the redheaded girl and another girl with brown, bushy hair were screaming and scrambling on top of each other trying to escape the stone-imps. Glass from the broken jar covered the floor. The stone-imps must have been frustrated from being imprisoned for so long, because now they were furious. They burned with a fierce, blue light that blinded my eyes. They whizzed around the kids so fast that the entire compartment was full of blue light. The imps pulled the kids' hair, pinched their skin and bit their faces. Tiny streaks of blue lightning flew from the imps' hands and shocked the kids. From the way the kids screamed and flayed their arms about, it looked painful. The redheaded girl screamed and desperately tried to pull the door open. The girl with brown, bushy hair managed to repair the glass jar with a spell. The stone-imps grabbed her wand, however, and began to wrestle it away from her.

"I locked the door with a spell," Draco gasped. He laughed so hard that he had to wipe the tears out of his eyes. "It's finally a spell that Granger doesn't know."

"Stop it, Draco!" I demanded. "It's not funny! What if they really get hurt?"

Draco tried to get his mirth under control. "Do you want those things to come after us?" He asked me. "Because that's what will happen if we open that door."

I looked up and down the train. Didn't they have some kind of train attendants to deal with this kind of thing? I couldn't believe they let these kids run wild without some kind of supervision. The little witch with the candy trolley didn't count.

Eventually, the stone-imps tired out. They must have liked the girl's brown, bushy hair the most, because they settled into it. The girl blinked out at us, traumatized, blood running down her face from tiny cuts and bites. The redheaded girl was crying hysterically. Harry shook with rage and glared at Draco, murder blazing in his green eyes.

"You sick creep!" Ron pounded on the glass door. "Open this door and duel like a man!"

* * *

Many thanks to all my reviewers! 

Thank you, Merryday, Shadowstar21, Hannah and Slate-One  
  
Escaped: Hope things are going well for you. I keep having nightmares about me and Lucius in the dungeon! It's not fair that I don't dream about the sex part, just the whipping part.

Arsinoe de Blassenville: Thanks for reading my story. Have a great trip! Are you going to the U.K. by any chance? If you are, please bring me back some of those Cadbury chocolate truffle thingies ;-) why does tea taste so much better over there?

Dragonwing: Yes, things are getting pretty complicated aren't they? That's very nice of you to say that this is one of your favorite stories. I think I decided to write the kind of story that I would like to read.

Chocoliciouz: You're going to India??? That is too cool. Have a good trip. I don't get to go anywhere fun this summer.

Rycca Wolfbane: Hope your poor head feels better. It's probably from running after all those kids all day! Hope you had fun this weekend, and that you got to see the Azkaban movie.


	15. Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Fifteen

Behind Ron, I could see the bushy-haired girl waving her wand at the door and muttering, obviously trying new spells to open it. She seemed very calm and focused, given what had just happened to her.

Crabbe and Goyle looked to Draco for instructions.

"You're crazy if you think I'm going to let them out now," Draco told me, walking down the corridor to our compartment. His two minions followed. "They can stay in there for the rest of the year for all I care."

"What's going to happen to them once we arrive?" I followed the boys down the corridor. "Will they just stay on the train when it leaves back for London?"

The corridor filled with the sound of angry voices. Harry and Ron tumbled out into the narrow hallway. Obviously, the kids had managed to open the door to their compartment.

"You're going to pay for that, Malfoy!" Ron stormed toward us, his wand outstretched in his hand. "You've been asking for this all year."

The next thing I knew, I was surrounded by blasts of light. Crabbe, Goyle and Draco were hurling hexes from behind me. Someone grabbed my arm to pull me out of the way, but in the confusion I couldn't tell who it was.

"Expelliarmus!"

There was a blast that made the glass doors rattle on their hinges. I was lifted off my feet. I felt myself flying through the air, and then my head struck the back wall of the train. Everything turned black.

* * *

"The entire world does not revolve around Mr. Potter." Severus' voice was low and waspish. "He and his little entourage are clearly irresponsible. Miss Silverthorn lacks the knowledge to protect herself from an attack. She could have been seriously hurt and all because Potter and Weasley cannot control their tempers." 

I lay listening with my eyes tight shut. I felt very groggy, and my head was pounding with pain. The words I was hearing seemed to be traveling very slowly from my ears to my brain, so that it was difficult to understand. My arms and legs felt like lead, my eyelids too heavy to lift...

"Those children were trapped inside that compartment for Merlin knows how long, being attacked by angry stone-imps, and you claim that they couldn't control their tempers? Malfoy has been out of control all year," A woman said, her voice brusque and tinged with a Scottish accent. "If you're not willing to punish him accordingly when he acts out, then how are we to-"

"Malfoy will soon be seventeen, Professor." Severus cut in. "Do you understand what that means?"

"It means that he will hopefully graduate from Hogwarts and be out of our hands."

"He will be forced to take the Dark Mark. All of Malfoy's attempts to aggravate Potter greatly amuse the Dark Lord. The Dark Lord has been entertained by stories of Draco's exploits since he has returned. Believe me, Professor McGonagall, the boy's motive may very well be an ingratiating one."

"Good heavens. I didn't think of that." The woman's voice took on a worried tone.

I opened my eyes. Everything was slightly blurred. I was lying in what looked like a hospital room. At the very end of the ward, I could make out a nurse with her back to me, bending over a bed. I squinted. Draco's silvery hair was visible beneath the woman's arm. Two huge lumps, which I guessed to be Crabbe and Goyle, were in other beds.

"Stop making such a fuss, Mr. Malfoy," The nurse said. "They're only boils. They won't kill you."

To the right of me Severus was speaking with a slender, middle-aged woman in emerald and black robes, dark hair pulled severely away from her face into a tight bun. She glanced at me.

"Oh, Miss Silverthorn." The woman waved the nurse over. "Poppy! She's awake."

Suddenly a woman with a pointed, serious face was bending over me.

"What happened?" I asked.

"You received a slight concussion," The woman said matter-of-factly. She fussed around my bed, muttering something about "foolish dueling" and "no adult supervision." She grabbed a bottle from a small table that was labeled, "Cranium-Mend." She poured some of the clear fluid into a spoon and stuck it in my mouth. It was the most horrible thing I'd ever tasted. It even tasted worse than the trauma potion.

"Ack! That tastes like crap!" I yelled, before I could catch myself. "Um, sorry." I felt my face burn with embarrassment.

Laughter erupted suddenly from one of the boys at the other end of the room. I think it was Goyle.

The nurse's lips pursed with disapproval. "Well, what did you expect? Pumpkin juice?" She flapped her hands at the two teachers as though she were shooing away children. "Out, both of you. My patient needs her rest."

"Professsor Dumbledore would like to see you in his office, when you've rested up from your... ordeal, Miss Silverthorn." Professor McGonagall told me with a sniff. "He's already been talking to the Gryffindors. I'm sure he'll be wondering where you managed to find a jar of stone-imps." I tried not to notice the glare of indignation that she shot me as she and Severus left the room.

I sighed. I had only been in the wizarding world a short time, but it seemed I was already developing quite a talent for offending witches.

* * *

"Miriel, if you don't come on, we'll never make it to Dumbledore's office." Draco paused to scratch an ugly, purple boil that still remained on his neck. Crabbe and Goyle hadn't recovered nearly as quickly, and they were still in the infirmary, their faces as purple as grapes. 

I kept stopping to stare at everything in wonder, the stone archways, the stairways that slid around in mid-air, the moving paintings that whispered as we passed by, the ghosts who flew by greeting us...everything! There was even a group of kids who were eating some kind of magical candy that turned them into various types of birds. I couldn't believe that I was finally here, at Hogwarts. I was going to attend magic school!

"He's probably going to yell at me for roughing up Saint Potter a bit," Draco continued. "Professor Snape already took a hundred points from Slytherin."

"Whatever," I said, not looking at him.

"I told you I was sorry," Draco said. "I tried to pull you out of the way, but I wasn't fast enough. I think it was that Weasley girl who hexed you. I've heard she's always had a thing for Potter, and she's probably jealous after reading the Daily Prophet. Probably did it on purpose, the little wench."

I remembered what Severus and Professor McGonagall had been discussing in the infirmary when they thought I was asleep. I wanted to ask Draco about it, but decided that now wasn't the time.

We walked in silence around a corner. Severus was there, pacing in front of an ugly stone gargoyle. Neither one of them looked very happy. Without greeting us, the professor turned to the gargoyle.

"Cadbury truffles!" Severus said, with a sneer that indicated how ridiculous he found the password to be. The stone creature sprang suddenly to life and hopped aside. The wall behind it split in two. Behind the wall was a spiral staircase that was moving smoothly upward, like an escalator. The three of us stepped onto it, and then we rose upward in circles, higher and higher. I had never liked heights, and I was quickly getting motion sickness.

"Don't you dare be sick, Miss Silverthorn," Severus told me with a glare. He must have been using his teaching voice, because it permitted no disobedience.

I was quite relieved when the upward motion stopped and I saw a gleaming oak door ahead. Severus took hold of a brass knocker in the shape of a griffin.

Professor Dumbledore opened the door. He wore shimmery, light-blue robes covered in stars, and a woven beret topped with a tassel. The robes had an iridescent sheen to them, so that they reflected different colors as he moved. A thin chain with tiny silver charms encircled his long, flowing beard and dangled down.

I was so happy to see his kind, smiling face that on impulse I ran up and hugged him. His face lit up with pleasure and profound surprise. I guess people around here were a little more formal than what I was used to.

"My dear, I'm so pleased to have you at Hogwarts, safe and sound," He said, patting me on the back. He looked pointedly over his half-moon glasses at Draco, and I thought a lecture was coming, but he merely said, "Thank you for showing your cousin to my office, Mr. Malfoy. You may leave. I'm sure you have much to catch up on with your friends."

"Professor Dumbledore, are you going to sort Miriel now?" Draco asked. "I'd really like to be here for that."

"He's just afraid I'll be sorted into Gryffindor," I told the headmaster, smiling. "He won't be able to bear the heavy burden of shame if that happens."

Professor Dumbledore just smiled as if that was the funniest thing he'd heard all day, and motioned us all inside. "Oh, yes, it is always rather enchanting to watch someone being sorted. I do admit to being very curious about you, Miss Silverthorn, as well. We'll do that first and get it out of the way."

It was a large and beautiful circular room, full of magical instruments and funny little noises. The walls were covered with portraits. There was also an enormous, claw-footed desk. The flame-colored phoenix sat on his post and trilled at me.

"Hi, birdie," I said, and stroked it on the head. "I'm happy to see you, too."

The headmaster walked across the room toward a battered old wizard's hat sitting on a stool. When he touched the hat, it came to life. Two bumps on its surface blinked open into eyes and a tear above the brim cracked into a smile. "Ahhh...a straggler this year," it said in my direction. "A bit old to be starting school, aren't we?" Could a hat actually leer?

I settled on the stool and Dumbledore placed the hat on my head.

"Hmmm," the Hat said. It sounded as if it were whispering in my ear. "Fascinating. Messy and complicated. Quite a temper you have there. You get that from the Malfoys, you know. Your love for books is very Ravenclaw. Oh, my, that desire to rescue people, very Gryffindor of you." The Hat chuckled. "Lucius thinks he'd throw me into a fire, does he? I'd like to see him try."

"How do you know all that?" I asked.

"It's all here in your head. I've sorted everyone who has attended Hogwarts, you know. Very ambitious boy, Lucius was. Turned out to be quite a sexy beast..."

"Excuse me?" Did the hat just say what I thought it did?

"Oh yes, I heard he became quite popular with the ladies later on in school, and with a few of the gentlemen as well." The hat chuckled wickedly.

"Ugh. T.M.I. Too much information!" I glanced over at Professor Dumbledore, wondering if he knew that his hat said such things. This was a school, after all.

"I don't get to converse with adults very often, you know. But we're not here to discuss your uncle; we're here to sort you. Hmmm... Loads of power and talent, but not much ambition, I'm afraid. I could put you into Slytherin, anyway. That would make your fiancé happy, and you certainly have the clothes to match." I guess the hat knew all about my green and silver wardrobe. "But I'm afraid you wouldn't be happy there. You're a terrible liar, aren't you?"

I nodded, glancing at Severus, who was watching the entire event with a look of impatience on his face. He strode over to the chair by Professor Dumbledore's desk and sat with a swirl of his teaching robes, pulling the fronts across his chest and tucking his hands inside. Something about him reminded me of a giant, grumpy raven.

"Maybe you'd better hurry up." I muttered to the hat.

"Now, now, a good sorting takes time. You don't want to end up in the wrong house, do you? You'll never impress the potions master by being in Hufflepuff." The Hat was quite a gossip and a flirt. By the time I looked up again, Severus was fuming. He looked like _he_ might be the one to throw the hat into the fire.

"I sorted your parents, you know." The hat said. "Gaius certainly did a turn-about. He was a devoted Death Eater, but then his entire outlook changed. Lucius always wondered about that, didn't he?"

"What happened?" I asked the hat.

"Dumbledore had Gaius look into the Mirror of Erised. Something in it made him change his mind about following Voldemort. Something in it convinced him to allow your mother to escape the Dark Lord."

"What did he see?"

"You'll have to ask the headmaster that question," The hat said. "I don't know everything, you know. Just what I pick up from people's heads, and what the headmaster chooses to tell me."

I glanced over, and saw that Professor Dumbledore had ordered some tea and little pies from the house elves.

By now the hat was retelling old school stories. "... and then Lucius tricked Sirius Black into revealing his more, shall we say, exotic sexual preferences, and Black ended up looking like a fool in front of the entire school! Heh." The hat wriggled around on the top of my head with laughter.

"Get a move on, you ridiculous hat," Severus finally said in a huff. "I haven't got all bloody day."

Professor Dumbledore tried to hush him. "Relax, Severus. Have some lemon tart."

"Well, we certainly don't want the esteemed potions master to get his knickers in a twist. It had better be **RAVENCLAW**!" The Sorting Hat said the House name aloud.

"Thank Merlin!" Draco said, relief evident in his voice. "It must be all those books you read," He told me.

"Well done, well done." Professor Dumbledore clapped his hands politely. "Ah, the house of the intellectual. Your mother was in Ravenclaw, also, my dear."

"I think your Sorting Hat needs to get out more," I told Professor Dumbledore, as he plucked the hat from my head.

"Some students are more challenging than others," The headmaster said.

Severus snorted. "The damned thing is a gossipmonger. Thank the gods that it doesn't have much time to talk to the first years during the sorting ceremony."

"You should be thanking me, Severus," The hat said from the headmaster's hands. "That I didn't tell the young lady about you and that-" But then Professor Dumbledore set it up on a shelf behind his desk, and the hat appeared to fall asleep.

Professor Dumbledore then turned to Draco. "Now, Mr. Malfoy, if you don't mind, we have a few things to discuss with your cousin."

"You have been through quite a lot in the short time you've been in the wizarding world," Professor Dumbledore told me after Draco shut the door behind him. "I think I'll give you a week or so before your formal tutoring begins. This will give you time to settle yourself in and acclimate yourself a bit."

I felt a surge of relief. "Thanks, Professor. I've been kind of in shock, especially since last night. I think part of me still thinks I should be in New Orleans."

"I want you to relax and put Voldemort out of your mind completely," The headmaster gently told me. "You are here, Miss Silverthorn, and you are safe. I would also like for you to leave Severus and me to the task of informing the Dark Lord about Harry Potter."

"I'm sorry, sir?" I asked, a bit confused. "Aren't I supposed to, um, get close to Harry and his friends and all that?"

"We could never let Voldemort know anything about Harry or his friends that might endanger them," Professor Dumbledore said. "I will have Harry show you around for appearance's sake, but I don't want you to worry about all that. Severus and I will come up with something. The trick is to satisfy the Dark Lord without actually giving him information that might be useful."

"But, isn't that dangerous?" I asked. "For Severus?" I looked at the teacher, but his face appeared to be frozen in a look of perpetual annoyance.

"These are dangerous times, my dear," Professor Dumbledore said. "Now, the rules here will be a little different for you. Since you are an older student, I think you will appreciate a room of your own. It might be quieter for you away from the other students. They can be rather boisterous, especially the younger ones. We have converted some space in the dungeons into faculty living quarters, and the location should be convenient for you. You will be meeting with some of the other teachers besides Professor Snape, of course, but I suspect that the majority of your time until next term will be in potions."

"The dungeons?" I said, trying not to wrinkle my nose too much.

"I think you'll find your room quite cozy. The house elves have been unpacking your things. It's not exactly Malfoy Manor, but the elves can help you redecorate, if you find the décor not to your taste." Professor Dumbledore stood to lead us to the door.

"Just one more thing, Professor," I said. "The hat told me that my father changed somehow when he looked into the Mirror of Erised. What exactly changed him?"

"The realization of what one truly desires can be a life changing experience. Out of all the people who have looked into the mirror's depths, I have never known anyone who did not desire to love and be loved. Even when the person saw the attainment of riches, glory or fame, at a basic level it was about receiving love in some form. I believe that your father saw his desire to love, that there was more to life than just blind servitude. There was very little love in the Malfoy family, I suspect."

"I wish I had known him," I whispered.

"Many people who look into the mirror see loved ones, especially those they have lost." The headmaster looked over his glasses at me. "Some would do anything to see them again."

"Thank you, Professor Dumbledore." I smiled a bit sadly.

As he guided me to my room, Severus lectured me about not disturbing his privacy. He was used to living alone in the dungeons, and I was not to bother him unless there was a dragon attack, a fire or the Dark Lord himself was about to knock on his door. I kept trying to ask him questions, but he was obviously in a snit about something.

"Why are you in such a bad mood, Severus?" I finally asked. Honestly, "broomstick up his arse" didn't quite cover it.

The man glared down his nose at me, and his voice curled with warning. "My _mood_ is none of your concern. And I would prefer it if you would refer to me by my professional title." After a few moments, he continued. "It just so happens that my sixth years' project for tomorrow was a de-aging and beautifying potion. The apothecary's shipment of fresh virgin's blood, which is mandatory for the potion, was contaminated in a careless shop accident. I am unprepared for another project. "

"Can't you get it somewhere else?" I asked.

"There's not exactly a plethora of adult, female virgins running around this school," He said. "The women here at Hogwarts are either underage students, or they are teachers that are so ancient that-"He stopped walking so suddenly, that I ran right into him. He turned, and gave me a keen, evaluating look.

"Don't look at me!" I told him, blushing furiously. "Nobody's taking my blood. Needles make me really queasy. I pass out and everything."

"But Miss Silverthorn," A smirk curled his lips, and his eyes glittered. "You owe me."

I tried to protest, but didn't have the heart. I did owe him, damn it.

"The class is tomorrow at 2:00," Severus said. "Arrive at my classroom fifteen minutes early. Don't be late. The class is double potions, with Gryffindor and Slytherin. After tomorrow, Miss Silverthorn, perhaps you will have a better understanding of why I am in such a "bad mood."

* * *

Many thanks to all my reviewers! 

Thanks to Jessica Halliwell Potter, Shadowstar21 and Nemblewhiska 

Eclipse of Starz: Thank you for your review! Yeah, I think that Molly Weasley is very protective of Harry. Remember how she was mad at Hermione when the Daily Prophet came out with a story about Harry and Herm?

Arsinoe de Blassenville: Yum, Yum. I love gelato. Thanks a lot! I'm glad you liked Lucius. I thought it would be nice to show a more human side to him, for a change. I got tired of reading stories about him where he was impossibly evil and perverted.

Annie: What a cool review! I was deeply touched by it. Yes, I've always had a thing for men with long hair. HA! How did you guess? I think I started writing a fan fiction story because I got tired of the ones I read all being the same. I'm trying to be a bit different, as well as portray the characters a little more well-rounded than they appear in the HP books. I hope it works. I'm trying to think about how a teenager from the states would see things in the wizarding world. I have read that several of my favorite fantasy writers, including JK Rowling and Tolkien, wrote for the sheer fun of it. They wrote what they would have liked to have read. That kind of inspired me, and I've been trying to write a fan fiction story that I would like to read. Thank you so much for reading my story! I'm glad you like it. BTW- yeah, I thought that Alan Rickman did have a tummy on him in the Azkaban movie. I guess that the kid who plays Draco is just having an awkward teenage moment. The expressions on his face were either anger or terror, and I guess that didn't help much.

Escaped: Get thee to a movie theater, now, young lady! How am I supposed to talk about the movie without ruining it for you? Hey, I just realize that Rose in your story has her hair very short, as well. Funny how details from our lives slip into our stories, isn't it? Yes, having long hair can be cool sometimes (like at Renaissance Fairs) but sometimes it's a huge pain. I keep slamming the car door on my hair, and it hurts! I am still waiting for my lucid dream, by the way! HA!

Thanks also to Chocolizious (who is in India) Rycca Wolfbane (who has probably passed out in bliss from too much Alan Rickman in the new Azkaban movie) and Slate-One.


	16. Chapter Sixteen

Author's Note: The Grey Lady is the Ravenclaw ghost, according to the Harry Potter Lexicon. She was very picky when it came to men, and never married because she couldn't find anyone that met her standards.

* * *

Chapter Sixteen  
  
Draco needed to talk to Mr. Filch about all the detentions he had to serve for his little "prank" on Harry Potter, and so I ended up being escorted to dinner in the Great Hall by the Ravenclaw ghost. I tried not to shiver with cold as she floated beside me. She had been a very tall woman who was obviously a great intellectual.  
  
"Professor Dumbledore told me that Harry Potter was supposed to show me around," I told her. "But I haven't seen him."  
  
"Which just goes to show you, that a woman cannot rely too much on men, even those among the living," The Grey Lady told me with a sniff. "Mr. Potter is no doubt attempting to deal with the aftermath of that article in the Daily Prophet. Sir Nicholas told me that the other students have been teasing him mercilessly about it all afternoon. By the way, my dear," The ghost lowered her voice. "The choice of men at this school is positively dismal. Not a true intellect among them."  
  
"What about Severus Snape?" I couldn't help but ask.  
  
After considering my question, the ghost replied. "He does have a brilliant mind when it comes to potions. He is cruel to his students, especially the Gryffindors. However, in my conversations with him, he has been most reasonable. His tastes in books run mostly toward potions and history, but he has a secret fondness for the Muggle romantic poets. Especially Keats and Wordsworth. It isn't something he wants advertised. No doubt he feels it would ruin his image." The ghost smiled slightly.  
  
I sighed. Severus must have a sensitive side, if he liked that kind of poetry.  
  
"But I must inform you, my dear." The Grey Lady continued. "That any kind of romantic relationship between students and professors is strictly prohibited. Even if the student was of age, Dumbledore would simply not permit such a thing to continue."  
  
I felt a sharp stab of disappointment. I had always suffered from crushes on older men, even in high school. From the self-help books I had read, I knew that it probably had something to do with the fact that I'd never had a father. Knowing that didn't make it any easier, however.  
  
The ghost took me through a pair of double doors into the Great Hall. It was a truly amazing place, and its ceiling was full of clouds lit up by a pink and gold sunset. It was lit by thousands and thousands of candles that were floating in midair over four long tables. The tables were laid with golden plates and goblets. Hundreds of kids were sitting down, talking, laughing and jostling each other. At the top of the hall was another long table where the teachers were sitting. My eyes immediately searched for Severus, and I saw him sitting with a petite witch with short, dark hair. They talked intensely together, and she kept leaning in toward him and smiling as though she had been reunited with a very old friend.  
  
"Who's that?" I asked the ghost.  
  
"Oh, it looks like we have a new teacher," The Grey Lady said. "The previous one must have made good on her threats to quit. Don't gawk, dear. You'll sit at the Ravenclaw table, up front with the seventh years."  
  
As I walked along, the students stopped what they were doing to stare at me. I was easy to spot, as I was the only person in the room dressed in green instead of black school robes. A rustle of whispers followed me. I heard snatches of their conversations. "...Potter's girlfriend. ...From the Daily Prophet. ...Is she really engaged to Malfoy? ...Bet she's a snob." There were a few whistles from the Gryffindor table. My face burning, I searched through the students to find Ron glaring at me. The girl, who I'd since learned was named Hermione, actually looked like she pitied me. Harry stared miserably down at his empty plate, trying to ignore the laughing students around him. I sat down as quickly as I could.  
  
"Welcome back to Hogwarts," Professor Dumbledore said, standing up at a podium in front of the room. "I trust that all of you have had a pleasant Spring break. I have a few announcements to make." He turned toward me and smiled.  
  
Oh no! He was going to introduce me! I felt all the blood rush to my face, and I wanted to crawl under the table. Why were the seventh years at the _front_ of the room?  
  
"We have a new student here this year. May I introduce Miss Miriel Silverthorn, from the charming state of Louisiana? She has just discovered that she is a witch. I know that all of you will help her to feel comfortable here at Hogwarts, and that you will provide her with whatever help she needs." The headmaster motioned for me to stand.  
  
I stood and tried to smile as the students applauded. There were more whistles. Someone (no doubt an American) even yelled "Yeah, baby!"  
  
"I can't tell you how pleased I am with your enthusiasm, Mr. Garland." Professor Dumbledore raised an eyebrow at a boy sitting at the Gryffindor table and smiled. "I am also pleased to announce the arrival of our new Muggle studies teacher, Professor Circe Lovelace. She is a witch, but has spent many years living among Muggles. She is also quite skillful at deflecting hexes." Here he looked pointedly over at the Slytherin table, and a few students laughed.  
  
The small witch rose from the table. From the thunderous applause, I guessed that the previous teacher had been extremely unpopular among all the students.  
  
"There has been much controversy over the work of British Muggle literature that our previous professor had chosen for the sixth and seventh years," Professor Dumbledore continued. "But in order to avoid confusion, Professor Lovelace has agreed to continue with Tolkien's novel until the end of the school year. I realize that it is a long and complex work, but it is rich in lessons of mercy, heroism and valor. In these dark and troubled times, all of us could stand to learn a bit more about these virtues."  
  
"It sounds like he just wants to turn us all into Gryffindors," A girl at my table muttered to the boy next to her.  
  
I glanced over at the Slytherin table. They did not look happy, to say the least.  
  
After the food magically appeared on the table, I ate, only half-listening to the students around me. I glanced up again where the new teacher sat, only to find her staring directly at me. It seemed that she recognized me. Her face was stricken with a look of concern, as if she knew me quite well. Severus looked up from his plate and caught her gazing at me. He touched her arm and said something to get her attention, because she started and immediately turned toward him again. I watched them for awhile. They glanced at me from time to time, until it became obvious that they were talking about me.  
  
I didn't remember ever having met this woman. For a moment I wished that I was sitting at the teachers' tables, and could hear what they were saying.  
  
After dinner a few of the Ravenclaws visited, but their conversations were about things I didn't understand, such as magical theory and various wizarding writers. I soon found myself lost in the conversation. I went back to my apartment. Somehow being around all those people I didn't know made me feel lonely and out-of-sorts.  
  
My quarters had turned out to be warm and welcoming, which was a big relief. It didn't look like it belonged in a dungeon at all. There was a large fireplace against one long wall, flanked with ample bookcases, and a long, comfortable looking sofa with matching chairs. There was even a row of diamond-paned windows up near the ceiling, so that I knew I wasn't entirely underground. There was even a small kitchen area that the house elves had stocked with tea and snacks.  
  
I opened up my cedar chest that I had brought from New Orleans, and took out my books for the shelves. I found a framed photo of my mother and me standing on the deck of a steamboat. She didn't really look too much like me. She had the same slender build, but the hair that swung around her heart-shaped face was reddish brown. She was very pretty, with a generous mouth that was a little too wide for her face, wide-set blue eyes, and a slim, perfect nose. She didn't have to wear much makeup, but she always looked classy and put-together. I remember teasing her that she should be a catalog model.  
  
I kept hearing Mr. Malfoy's words running through my mind. I knew it would probably drive me crazy if I thought about it too much. To see my mother again...If Professor Dumbledore had the Mirror of Emit hidden away from the Ministry of Magic, how in the world could I find it? His comment in his office about people who would do anything to see their loved ones again hit too close to home. I had a horrible thought- what if the headmaster could read my mind, too? I made a mental note to ask someone about it.  
  
I was brewing some tea with the enchanted teapot, when someone knocked at the door. It was Draco, who immediately swung me up in his arms and carried me toward the sofa.  
  
"What are you doing?" I shrieked.  
  
"Welcoming you to Hogwarts, properly, of course." He set me down on the sofa and kissed me until I was breathless.  
  
"_You're_ in a good mood," I finally said, when he came up for air. "I thought you had to plan out all kinds of nasty things to do for Mr. Filch."  
  
"Yeah, but Potter and Weasley got detention, too, for unjustly hexing my poor, innocent, Muggle-raised cousin. I think they covered up for Weasley's sister. Typical Gryffindors." He looked around my room approvingly. "How did you luck out and get a place like this? I'm a prefect, and even my room isn't this nice. I love it in here. Lots of privacy. This will be our little love nest." He wriggled his eyebrows.  
  
This made me smile, in spite of my somber mood. "I don't know about all that. Severus, um, Professor Snape gave me a lecture on his privacy. He probably won't want anyone down here too much."  
  
"You'll be down here in the dungeons with Snape, huh? Alone. Together. How _convenient_."  
  
I looked sharply at Draco, expecting to see a jealous expression, but all I saw was a strange, dreamy smile.  
  
"You'll be spending a lot of time with Snape. The cauldrons will be bubbling," He continued dramatically. "The air will be all hot and steamy. You'll be wearing those little, Muggle clothes to cool off. The sexual tension will be mounting..." He closed his eyes in bliss. "Snape will be ready to snap. And then...you'll owl me and we'll have a threesome..."  
  
"I do not want to hear this!" I laughed so hard that I choked. I wasn't sure if it was hilarious or horrifying. Draco could really be funny when he wanted to be.  
  
"That's every Slytherin student's fantasy," He said, grinning. "Didn't you know that? Oh, I forgot, you're in Ravenclaw. Well, maybe you Ravenclaws have your own little fantasies involving Professor Flitwick..."  
  
"Ugh. Shut up!" I gasped, laughing even more. "I do not need those kinds of images in my brain." When I finally got myself under control, I asked, "You don't have any kind of fantasies involving Harry Potter that I need to know about, do you?"  
  
Draco's face immediately pulled into a scowl. "Yeah, but my fantasies about him involve the unforgivables. If that stupid git comes anywhere near you, I'll use the Avada Kedavra on him."  
  
"Don't even joke about things like that," I said. "I was, um, wondering...if you aggravate Harry because the Dark Lord likes to hear about it."  
  
Draco sat up straighter on the sofa. "Who told you that?"  
  
"I overheard Professor Snape talking about it."  
  
Draco sighed. "I guess so. That's part of it, anyway. For awhile I acted like a wimp, too. I had the stupid idea that maybe the Dark Lord would think I was unworthy to be a death eater. He really values servants like my father, who have a lot of discipline and control, and who won't back down from anything. I don't think it worked too well, though, because the Dark Lord is expecting me to become a Death Eater once I'm seventeen. Once that happens, I won't be able to do anything without the Dark Lord's permission. I won't be able to have my own life."  
  
For a moment I wondered who the real Draco was. How much of his behavior at school was just an act, and had the act become so much of a habit that it even appeared real to him? "What would you do," I finally asked him. "If you didn't have to worry about the Dark Lord or your dad? If you could do anything?"  
  
"I would travel. Like when we were in New Orleans and we did stuff. I'd travel everywhere, even to all the Muggle places. This sounds silly, but when I was little I liked to draw a lot. I wanted to be an artist, you know, and paint those kinds of portraits that hang up at Hogwarts. But my father thought it was a waste of time. He wouldn't let me have art lessons."  
  
We talked until it became quite late, and then I heard another knock on the door. When I opened it, Professor Snape stood there. "I would like to remind both of you that I cherish living in the dungeons because of the _silence_. Mr. Malfoy, you obviously feel you are exempt from curfew tonight. I will not tolerate any little slumber parties." Strangely enough, Professor Snape's face lacked the hardness it showed when he was irritated. Even though his tone was serious, he glanced at Draco almost as though he were fond of him. "I hope you are prepared for class tomorrow?"  
  
"Yes, sir." Draco slipped off the couch with a sigh.  
  
"Professor Snape," I said, before they had the chance to leave. "Do you happen to know the new Muggles studies professor? Tonight at dinner, it seemed like she knew me from somewhere."  
  
"I don't see how, Miss Silverthorn. I have only met her this evening, myself." His eyes were unreadable, but I sensed that he was resistant to discussing it further.  
  
I finally went to bed late that night, my head spinning with all my thoughts. I wondered about the Mirror of Emit. I wondered about Severus and the new teacher. I wondered if I was ever going to fit in at Hogwarts.

* * *

The next day, I arrived at Professor Snape's classroom a little earlier than he had asked me to. The classroom used for potions was kind of creepy, I had to admit. It was deeper into the dungeons, and so it was chilly. I avoided looking too closely at the jars of pickled animals that lined the room. Locked behind a glass cabinet I found the stone-imps inside some kind of glass terrarium.  
  
"Miss Silverthorn." The words came low, and as soft as a caress.  
  
I jumped. One thing that was a bit disconcerting about Professor Snape was that he didn't just walk like ordinary people. He swooped, swished and swirled around, quite silently at times.  
  
"Hi, Professor."  
  
With his long fingers he pulled my wand out of my coiled braids. "This is a wand, Miss Silverthorn, not a fashion accessory. Anyone could easily grab it and use it against you. You would be wise to place it in the pocket of your robe."  
  
The wand caught the dim light of the dungeon and broke it into a thousand shards of color.  
  
"It could also distract the class." He turned the wand and the tiny dots of light whirled around on his robe. "This wand belongs in a disco," He muttered.  
  
I snorted. "A disco? How long has it been since you've been out in the Muggle world?" An image of Severus dressed in a white pantsuit from the seventies flashed into my mind and I laughed.  
  
He glared at me as if I had lost every shred of sanity I possessed. "Whatever is the matter with you, you silly girl?"  
  
I cleared my throat. "What are you planning to do with the stone-imps? Mr. Malfoy told me that you put their wings in potions."  
  
"They are quite repellant to hexes and curses. I am doing further research to determine the reason behind this. They are one of the only known creatures that are immune to the unforgivable curses. So far, however, I have only been able to utilize that trait in potions that repel minor hexes. Perhaps you may assist me on this project this summer."  
  
"I wasn't very good at chemistry," I told him apologetically. "I hope I do better at potions."  
  
"Chemistry is but a miniscule part of potion making. The art of potion making is a combination of the technical, such as measuring ingredients, and intuition. As one evolves in the skill, intuition begins to take over. I'm afraid I can teach my students the more mundane part, but magical intuition is an inherited skill and cannot be taught." The Professor waved his hand toward a table covered with jars. "Come this way Miss Silverthorn, and I will demonstrate what I mean."  
  
He indicated a row of jars filled with various herbs, leaves and other plants I didn't recognize. "I would like to make a mild tranquilizing potion. Tell me, Miss Silverthorn, which of these jars hold the main ingredient of such a solution?"  
  
"I don't know. I don't even know what any of these things are."  
  
"You don't need to think. You just need to _know_." Severus stood there waiting. "And time is essential, Miss Silverthorn. The students will begin to fill this classroom soon."  
  
"What am I supposed to do? Use the Force or something?" I muttered under my breath. I reached out a hand toward the jars, and a strange thing happened. I felt invisible currents of power press against my hand. Was it my imagination? I wanted to touch a jar of dried herbs. Finally, I pointed my finger toward it.  
  
"Valerian. Excellent." The Professor said. "Most students do not have anywhere near that level of intuition."  
  
I ended up standing in back of Professor Snape, as he lectured the class about the de-aging and beautifying potion. Evidently, it was only a mild potion, used for temporary cosmetic changes. The fresher the virgin's blood, the stronger the potion and the longer it would work. Each student had to add three drops of blood to their potions at just the right time, before they added the crushed sunstone and rose petals.  
  
When the students realized that I was the virgin to provide the blood, a few of the Slytherins smiled slyly and snickered. I heard hissing and whispers between a pug-faced girl and another girl sitting near Draco. Draco frowned at them, but it didn't do much good. I tried not to blush, but it was uncomfortable standing there. I glanced at Harry Potter, but he was obviously avoiding eye contact. He was really beginning to annoy me.  
  
"Ten points from Gryffindor, Mr. Longbottom," Professor Snape snarled. "Miss Granger, try to let Mr. Longbottom at least attempt one unaided action this year. It would be too much to expect him to actually achieve anything, but we should perhaps give him the opportunity to try."  
  
I gasped. I couldn't believe how mean that was.  
  
"Do you have something you wish to say, Miss Silverthorn?" Professor Snape asked me, his black eyes narrowed in warning.  
  
I shook my head hastily.  
  
"You had better sit down for this," The teacher told me. "We don't want you fainting." He used the normal, Muggle method for drawing blood. His hands were quite deft, and I hardly felt the needle, but still, it made me feel queasy. Sweat broke out on my face. He filled each student's vial with enough blood for the potion, and I tried not to look.  
  
About fifteen minutes later, I jumped at a loud explosion, and a fountain of potion sprayed everywhere. Professor Snape stepped in front of me, attempting to protect me with his robe. I heard him bellow, "Longbottom, you idiot! What did you do?"  
  
Instead of Neville Longbottom, there was a small child of about five or six, completely drenched in the potion. He had Neville's chubby face, brown hair and freckles. His school robes hung around him like a black tent. He immediately looked around and began to howl and cry with fear. Everyone began talking and laughing at once. I realized that Neville wasn't the only one to transform. At least five other students had been transformed into children.  
  
"Silence," Professor Snape growled.  
  
"Oh look at Draco." A girl's voice rose over the confusion. "Isn't he adorable? He looks like a baby angel."  
  
A five year old Draco looked around him in terror and confusion. He bolted out the door of the classroom and ran down the corridor, tripping over his huge robes.  
  
"Wait! Draco!" I ran after him.  
  
I picked him up off the floor and he shrieked.  
  
"What's wrong?" I asked him.  
  
"Get off! I want my mum!"  
  
I discovered quite quickly that he had no memory of me, the potions class, or of ever attending Hogwarts. His memory was stuck from when he'd had his fifth birthday. In his mind, he had just been to Diagon Alley, where his father had bought him a huge, magical, jewel-encrusted toad as a pet.  
  
"It's okay, honey." I tried to calm him down. This was really bad. It was frightening how wrong a de-aging potion could go. Surely the effects would only be temporary.  
  
Back in the classroom, Snape dismissed the entire class, keeping some volunteers to take the children to the infirmary. The children were all crying and frightened. It was clear that they all believed they should be back home with their parents.  
  
"And you wondered why I was in a bad mood. It's times like these, Miss Silverthorn, when I consider taking an early retirement." Professor Snape glared at poor Neville Longbottom. "And going on an extended vacation."

* * *

_**BTW**- Just to get into the whole Harry Potter spirit of things for the movie, I got a small box of those Harry Potter Jelly Bellies, that are supposed to be like Bertie Botts every-flavored beans. They were gross! I almost barfed. The grass flavored beans were okay, but the sardine, soap, spinach, black pepper, dirt, booger and vomit flavored ones were horrible. The worse one was flavored earthworm. It tasted exactly how I would imagine an earthworm to taste. How the heck do they come up with these things? More importantly, why did I allow curiosity to drive me to eat them? I'm a sick woman!!!  
  
_Many thanks to all my reviewers!  
  
Thanks to Shadowstar21 and Dragonwing  
  
Arsinoe de Blassenville- Thanks for the great review. Being an introvert myself (I'm an INFP on the Myers-Briggs personality sorter) I tend to appreciate more introverted characters, such as Hermione. Living with the Weasleys would be torturous! I love your story. Hurry up and get to work! ;-)  
  
Rycca Wolfbane- Okay, you know you can't live in your own little Snapey- dreamland forever! What did you think of Professor Lupin and Dumbledore?  
  
Annie- Thanks for all your great compliments. Yeah, I was concerned about Miriel being a Mary Sue, as well. I thought she had to have a great lineage and be very powerful, or Lucius wouldn't be so desperate for her to get hitched to Draco. It sounds as though immigrating was very rough for you. I hadn't thought of Miriel as immigrating, and I'm glad you brought that up so that I will think about how she feels. Yes, Draco was a big super-weenie in the movie. I didn't get why he ran screaming from Hermione when she hit him.  
  
Escaped- I'm glad you liked my sorting hat. I thought it would be funny if it seemed really different when it wasn't talking to the kiddies. Have you seen the POA movie yet? Please say yes! I don't want you and Grunnarc the Loaf to expire from the torture of it all. Please tell me what you thought of Professor Lupin and Albus Dumbledore. Enquiring minds are dying to know!  
  
MerryDay- Thanks, my summer is going okay, except for the fact that I'm poor and in desperate need of a job. Thank you so much for reading my story!  
  
Arabella Minerva- Thank you so much for the compliments! Actually, I think Escaped's story is way more exciting than mine. She has lots more sex and dungeons and stuff. 


	17. Chapter Seventeen

Author's Note: This chapter was definitely written by my Inner Child. I hope all the cuteness doesn't give you a sugar rush. Don't worry, the unicorn really does have a purpose in the story. It's not all fluff! Hee!  
  
I'm afraid that real life has been distracting me this week, so sorry for the late update. I'm trying to finish my Master's Thesis and Website. (My professors seem to have this ridiculous idea that this is much more important than fan fiction!) And I've had a bit of writer's block as well.

All information about the critters comes from the book, "Fantastic Beasts And Where To Find Them" by Newt Scamander (JK Rowling)

* * *

Chapter Seventeen  
  
I woke the next morning with a vague sense of loss and dread. An empty feeling lied in the pit of my stomach. It wasn't until I moved around, got dressed and drank some tea, that I realized what it was. Today was my birthday. I was officially nineteen.  
  
My last birthday was soon before my mother's death. She had taken me out to dinner on one of the steamboats that floated down the Mississippi river. It had been such a happy day, with the boisterous jazz music, and the Cajun shrimp fettuccine the restaurant served. I glanced at the photograph on my shelf once more and tried to swallow the lump that formed in my throat.  
  
"Hey, what's your name, again?" A little version of Draco padded into the room in his bare feet. He was dressed in a shrunken pair of green silk pajamas that had little, silver dragons embroidered on them. "Where are the house elves? Where is breakfast? When is my daddy coming to pick me up?" He shot me an imperious glare, which might have been intimidating had it not come from such an adorable, cherubic face. He was quite small for being five years old, but he had a big attitude.  
  
"Well, good morning to you, too, your Majesty," I said sarcastically. I couldn't help but smile, however, which probably ruined the effect. "I'll let the house elves know to bring breakfast." Somehow, I didn't think he was ready for the Great Hall. He didn't need all those twits gawking at him. I hadn't liked it at all, and I was a grown-up. He had caused such a disturbance last night in the infirmary, playing with the medical instruments and banging bedpans, that Madam Pomfrey soon begged that he be allowed to stay in my quarters until his father came for him.  
  
"I want pancakes with chocolate syrup on them," He announced. "And tea."  
  
"That does not sound very nutritious," I said, shaking my head. "That would probably just give you a sugar rush and you'd be hyper all day."  
  
"My mummy lets me have that for breakfast any time I want," Draco told me with a frown. He sat down at the kitchen table and surveyed all the crayon drawings he had made last night. The paper and enchanted crayons had been a gift from Madam Pomfrey. It probably had been a bribe for good behavior.  
  
"Those pictures are really detailed. I can tell you're very artistic." I peered over his shoulder. I had never seen drawings that moved and talked before, and the effect was hilarious, especially since the drawn characters seemed to be waking up and trying to outdo each other for our attention. "Maybe you'll be an artist when you grow up."  
  
"Croak." A cartoon toad puffed up like a ball.  
  
"Master Draco, you is getting Dipsy in trouble, you bad boy!" A figure that could only be a house elf wagged her finger.  
  
"Bloody hell!" A long-haired figure dressed in black robes was making some kind of kicking motion. I didn't have to guess too hard who _that_ must be. The small figure that was being kicked across the paper was shrieking.  
  
Draco's entire attitude changed with my compliment, and now he radiated with pleasure. He picked up one of the drawings. "This one is Ambrosius, my new toad that Daddy bought me for my birthday. He's very magical and expensive. Daddy said that I had to have the very best toad that money could buy. This is Dipsy, my nanny. But she's kind of boring. And this picture is of Daddy kicking Dobby." He handed me the paper, and I stared at it in fascination. The cartoon version of Mr. Malfoy cursed up a storm.  
  
"What the bloody hell are you looking at?" The cartoon snarled at me. "It's none of your business how I treat my servants!"  
  
"You should not be using that kind of language around little kids," I told it sternly. The crayon figure actually whipped its wand out and pointed it at me. "How rude!" I said and slapped it faced down on the table.  
  
"It's my birthday, too," I told Draco. I had been fighting the urge to hug and kiss him since he arrived last night. He really was an adorable little boy. His complexion was actually luminous, and his grey eyes gleamed with intelligence and curiosity. For a moment I remembered what the older Draco had predicted at the Manor- that I would someday have cute, little babies that looked just like him. Strangely enough, that thought was now not an unpleasant one.  
  
"What kind of presents are you getting?" The little boy asked seriously, as if that was the matter of utmost importance.  
  
"I don't think anybody here knows it's my birthday," I told him. "I'm new here." I thought again briefly of my mother, and felt a new surge of loneliness.  
  
It was some time after our breakfast (a healthy one with no sign of chocolate syrup) that someone rapped on the door. Mr. Malfoy strode into the room. He looked irate, and I guessed that he had just spoken with Severus about the potions accident.  
  
"Daddy!" Draco flung himself at his father's legs.  
  
Lucius' eyes softened as he saw Draco. He picked his son up in his arms. "I had forgotten. Draco was quite charming at this age," He told me over Draco's shoulder. "This brings back so many memories, of our lives before..." He trailed off, but I knew he was going to mention Voldemort's return.  
  
"I don't know what happened, Daddy." The boy's lip trembled. "I was at home playing with Ambrosius, and then I was here."  
  
Mr. Malfoy patted his son on the back. "Now, now, Draco, Malfoys do not cry. It was just a magical accident. You do know what an accident is, don't you? Severus is trying very hard to find out exactly what happened. Ambrosius is in the garden at home waiting for you. He, er, has grown quite a bit since you last saw him, however."  
  
"He's still living?" I asked, surprised. Wizarding toads must live a lot longer than Muggle ones.  
  
He nodded. "He's so huge he's probably eating house elves by now."  
  
"Daddy, it's this lady's birthday, too. She's all alone and she needs a present. Maybe she'd like to have a toad." Draco tugged on a silver snake button on his father's robes, and smiled charmingly.  
  
"Really? Yes, I do believe that she mentioned her birthday to me when we first met. I don't think that a toad would be an appropriate gift for such a lovely, young lady. She should have a familiar that suits her." He looked thoughtful. "I believe a trip to Knockturn Alley is in order."  
  
"Yaaaay!" Draco cheered. "Can we look at the giant spiders?"  
  
"Um, you don't really have to buy me anything, Mr. Malfoy," I said, a little embarrassed. "You've already done so much for me, with the bank account and all."  
  
"I think that it's about time that you called me Lucius. Better yet, why don't you call me Uncle Lucius?"  
  
"Daddy! What are you going to buy her?" Draco bounced in his father's arms with excitement. "Can I have another present, too?"  
  
Mr. Malfoy just smiled at me mysteriously.

* * *

The shop appeared to be a much darker version of the Magical Menagerie. A large cage crawling with monstrous eight-eyed spiders hung in the front window. A sign beneath it said, Indonesian Acromantulas- 50 galleons each.  
  
"Are you sure we're in the right place?" I asked Mr. Malfoy. "I was thinking more along the lines of something cute and fluffy, like a purple kitten. I saw some of those in Diagon Alley."  
  
"Oh, my dear." Mr. Malfoy smiled, and I caught the glitter of amusement in his eyes. "Cats, toads and owls are such commonplace familiars. Every student at Hogwarts has one of those. Surely you would like one that's a little...unique."  
  
"Not _that_ unique," I muttered under my breath, glancing again at the shop window. I shifted uneasily and rubbed my arms. I wondered if any of those spiders ever broke out of that cage.  
  
Draco clung to his father's hand, his eyes wide with a mixture of horror, glee and fascination as he stared at the spiders. Unfortunately, we must have arrived just at feeding time, because a number of rats were dropped into the cage. The spiders scurried toward them. I covered my eyes.  
  
"Wicked," Draco breathed.  
  
After awhile his father tugged on his hand. "Come. And I will only tell you once, Draco. Touch nothing."  
  
The shop was dim, even darker than Ollivander's had been. I could make out masses of multi-colored snakes entangled in glass cases, animal skeletons that lined the wall shelves, and jars of red, glowing spheres that were labeled "Ashwinder eggs." I was surrounded by cages of strange birds, fairies and other creatures I couldn't identify. I tried not to gag as the smell of old urine stung my nostrils.  
  
The shop was empty of people, save for an ancient, scarred witch that glared at us from behind the counter. "What the hell do you want?" She croaked out. She hobbled around the corner to get a better look at us.  
  
Mr. Malfoy let go of Draco's hand and stepped forward. He gripped the handle of his walking stick, and his eyes narrowed. "How dare you speak to me in that disrespectful manner, you revolting beast."  
  
When hearing his voice, the hag fell to her knees, groveling in front of him. "Master Malfoy, I had no idea it was you," She whimpered. "My eyesight has been going bad. Very bad. It's been so long since I've last seen you in my shop. Please, only tell me how I may serve you." She reached out to touch his boot, and I saw with horror that there was a huge paw with claws where her hand should be.  
  
Mr. Malfoy stepped back away from her, and turned his nose up into the air with disgust. "I am looking for a gift for Miss _Silverthorn_." He emphasized my last name. "A familiar that she would have a particular _affinity_ for. Do I need to explain myself further?"  
  
"No, no my Lord. We got one in quite recently. It was meant for another customer, but I would rather that you had it." She smiled, revealing her rotting, yellowed fangs.  
  
"Did gold cross the palm?" He asked.  
  
"No, my lord, I didn't pay any money for it. My son and his friends caught it, in a very deep part of the Forbidden Forest. The creature is completely pure from the taint of greed. It has not been harmed in any way. It is free from any curse."  
  
Mr. Malfoy nodded curtly.  
  
A particular nasty looking man soon carried out a small, wooden crate and set it down onto the counter. There was a lamp nearby, and he turned it up brighter. He tore off the lid to the crate, and motioned me to look inside.  
  
I peered over the top with hesitation, wondering what I might see. I really hoped it wasn't some kind of giant bug. I was trying to find some polite way of refusing the gift if it was something horrible, when I drew in a quick breath.  
  
At the bottom of the box lied a tiny, golden foal. At first I thought it was a statue, but then it pushed itself up onto its legs! Its hide rippled with light like molten gold, and its golden hooves stamped on the floor of the crate. It had obviously been shrunken down to a size that was easily handled. "I'm hungry," The little thing said. "I want to go home. I don't like it in here."  
  
I pressed my hand to my chest. "Oh, it's a talking horse!"  
  
The hag cackled and mumbled incoherently, but I ignored her.  
  
I reached out my hand, and the foal pressed her nose into my palm. It was soft and warm, not metallic at all. My mind filled with a rush of strange memories, images of a deep forest, a waterfall, fairies glittering in the night, of running through the tall grass, of the silver legs and golden hooves of horses. Then came a sense of confusion, screams of horses, webs of dark magic... and then evil smiles, rough hands and the stifling darkness of a box. I felt the little creature's terror and loss. It was a little overwhelming, and for a moment I even felt dizzy.  
  
"It's okay," I told her, stroking her head with my fingers. "I won't hurt you, I promise. I'd never let anybody hurt you." I had always loved horses, but living in the city had made it impossible to own one. My mind flashed back to all the horse novels I had devoured when I was younger, especially "The Black Stallion." I had envied the mystical connection between the boy and the stallion in the book, especially when they were shipwrecked together on a desert island. I continued to murmur to the foal, trying to comfort her.  
  
"Daddy," I heard Draco say. "Why is Miriel making those funny sounds?"  
  
"Hush, son," Mr. Malfoy told him in a low voice. "She is a Mirror-Mage. She is speaking in the language of unicorns."  
  
"Unicorns?" I said, astonished. "But I'm speaking English. How can I be speaking another language but not know I'm doing it? Anyway, this doesn't look anything like a unicorn."  
  
"She's only a foal," Mr. Malfoy replied. "In a short time, her hide will begin to turn silver, and in a couple more years she will begin to grow a horn. By the time she is seven years old, she will be completely white. It would be wise for us to obtain a license from the Ministry of Magic, just to prevent suspicion. It is illegal, of course, to own unicorns for use in the Dark Arts."  
  
"You mean I can really have her?" I was so excited that it took all my self control not to do a happy dance right there in the shop. This was much more wonderful than anything I had expected. I felt like my birthday, Christmas and Easter had all come at the same time.  
  
With a cool arch of his eyebrow, Mr. Malfoy looked at the hag in charge of the shop.  
  
"Of course!" The hag croaked too loudly. "Please accept it as a gift, Master Malfoy. I am honored with your mere presence. Such a great servant of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named would of course be welcomed at any time in my shop."  
  
"Where will I keep her?" I asked. I would never cease to be amazed at how shopkeepers reacted to the Malfoy name.  
  
"I'm sure that half-giant savage, Hagrid, will have some place you can use," Mr. Malfoy said. "He is the present instructor of the Care of Magical Creatures class at Hogwarts. Though I'm not sure he's interested in a creature unless it can kill, burn or maim innocent bystanders." Standing next to the crate, Mr. Malfoy reached his hand out to the foal, but she backed away hastily.  
  
"Bad man," The foal said.  
  
"I, um, don't think she likes you," I told Mr. Malfoy, a little embarrassed.  
  
He smiled a little sadly. "Yes, well, it's been a very long time since I could have touched a unicorn." Catching my look, he continued. "They are naturally attracted to innocence. And I do not mean sexual purity, but the innocence of someone who has never committed a violent deed."  
  
I didn't know what to say to that. After a long moment, I got up enough nerve to hug him. Not a big hug. Just a little one. "Thank you so much," I whispered against his robes. "Uncle Lucius."

* * *

Soon we were sitting at Florean Fortescue's ice cream parlor. Mr. Malfoy ordered us lunch, and an ice-cream cake with the words "Happy Birthday Miriel" written across the top in icing. I gave the unicorn a saucer of water, and set the crate under the table. I wondered what unicorns ate. I would have to ask Hagrid a lot of questions. Maybe there would even be a "Complete Dummy's Guide to Unicorns."  
  
I ended up telling my uncle all about my first couple of days at Hogwarts. I left out what the Sorting Hat had said about him, however.  
  
"Have you given any thought to our last conversation?" Mr. Malfoy finally asked me.  
  
"Yes. It's been all I can think about," I admitted. "I keep thinking about my mom, about what it would be like to see her again."  
  
He took his wand and cast a muffling spell around our table, so that no one could overhear us. "Have you given any thought to where the Mirror of Emit might be?"  
  
"I don't know," I told him. "How could I figure out where it is? I don't think Professor Dumbledore would just tell me."  
  
"Hogwarts is indeed a mysterious castle," He said. "I doubt that even Dumbledore knows all of its secrets. I'm sure you've noticed by now that some parts of the castle actually seem to move about, disappearing and reappearing in new places. It may be that some rooms only exist when Dumbledore calls them into existence."  
  
"That sounds complicated," I said. For some reason, I felt a little guilty, as though I was conspiring against the headmaster. He had been so nice to me.  
  
Mr. Malfoy noticed the look on my face, and sighed. "I keep forgetting that you're not in Slytherin."  
  
"I don't know if I could lie to him," I said.  
  
"You will not be lying. I presume that you are sincerely curious about your inheritance?"  
  
I nodded.  
  
"Dumbledore has no right to prevent you from seeing it. The headmaster considers all the mirrors to be quite dangerous, however, even that ridiculous Mirror of Erised. He may need some convincing. If you could discover how and where he is storing the Silverthorn mirrors, you may have some clue as to the Mirror of Emit."  
  
"Is the mirror dangerous?" I asked.  
  
"Please take my advice and don't touch the damned thing," He said. "I don't know what your grandfather did to entrap himself in it, but I wouldn't want the same thing to happen to you." Mr. Malfoy handed me a small velvet bag.  
  
I pulled out a square-shaped mirror.  
  
"This is a mirror used for communicating," He said. "I have the other one. When you discover more information about the Mirror of Emit, or if you need to talk to me for whatever reason, speak my name to the mirror, and I will answer." Mr. Malfoy suddenly looked around the table. "Where is my son?"  
  
We had been so absorbed in our conversation that we hadn't noticed that Draco was no longer sitting in his chair. I heard delighted giggling under the table.  
  
"The Unicorn is licking my fingers," Draco cried. "It tickles."  
  
I ducked my head under the table, and saw that he had been dipping his fingers into his plate of melted ice cream and feeding it to the foal.

"Draco! Stop it. You'll make her sick. I don't think unicorns are supposed to eat that." I pulled the little boy up and set him on my lap. His face and hands were covered in sticky ice cream. He even had it in his hair.  
  
"I think that our little party is over," Mr. Malfoy told him sternly. "It's time to return home. At once. To a bath."

* * *

Many thanks to all my reviewers!  
  
A million thanks to Eclipse of Starz, shadowstar21, and ice-princess42  
  
Arsinoe de Blassenville: Yes, I've always thought that the sorting might not be that great of an idea. In a lot of ways, I see the Wizarding world as being behind the Muggle one in things like psychology and the arts. I think they'd be more conservative and old-fashioned in a lot of ways as well. BTW- can you think of a literary unicorn name? Thank you so much for reading my story. It's nice that a well read person like yourself is enjoying it. I tend to be too hard on myself, and I'm a bit of a perfectionist. Don't worry, Harry is coming up again soon!  
  
Escaped: This chapter was the one that was originally a lot like your scene where Rose gets the unicorn's heart from the hag in Knockturn Alley. I kind of changed it around, though, so I hope it's not too much like your story.

I know the whole threesome with Snape thing might have been a little goofy, but I have read so many fanfics where the original female character moves into the dungeons, and then the sexual tension builds. It's like you KNOW what's going to happen. HA! When I finish the story, I'm sure there are things that I'll want to cut out or add. I'm having the problem now that there are so many characters at Hogwarts, and there are so many cool things that could happen. It's getting harder to stick with the main storyline.  
  
Whew! This was a rough week for me. Writer's block, another Jerry Springer episode with my family, I'm supposed to be finishing my Master's Thesis, looking for a job,... YIKES! I really liked Thewlis'acting in the POA movie, too. He did a good job. I guess I had always imagined Lupin to be a little better looking, though. Dumbledore did okay, but what was with the crazy, irrelevant little speeches he kept making? Was the man on drugs? :-)  
  
Rycca Wolfbane: Have fun in Louisiana for me! Hey, remember to send me the SNL clip you mentioned! Let me guess who could possibly be in it? Could it be...Alan Rickman, perhaps? :-)


	18. Chapter Eighteen

Author's Note: Many thanks to Arsinoe de Blassenville, who suggested the unicorn's name, and reminded me of one of my favorite books as a kid.  
  
I posted a free unicorn-wallpaper link (along with a few other links I find interesting) on my bio page.

* * *

Chapter Eighteen  
  
"How do I look?" I asked my mirror. I had been quite pleasantly surprised to find it packed away in my things. I had grown quite attached to it while living at Malfoy Manor. Somehow, the carved face of a woman at the top of the mirror's wooden frame made it seem like it was alive. From time to time during our discussions, I'd glance up to find that the face had changed expression.  
  
I ran my hand over my smooth, black robes, fingering the embroidered Ravenclaw insignia on my shoulder. I continued to pin my hair up with the emerald hair sticks that Draco bought me. I knew I wasn't supposed to be officially engaged, but they were just so beautiful, I couldn't resist wearing them.  
  
"Quite elegant," My mirror answered. "Master Draco will- oh, I forgot. He's staying at the Manor, now."  
  
It had been a week and a half since the potions accident. Little Draco continued to owl me crayon drawings of the unicorn. He wanted to be pen-friends, and had his new nanny, Twinky, write the notes for him. He demanded information about the foal constantly. It was driving him crazy that I hadn't settled on a proper name for her yet.  
  
"Yeah, I kind of miss him. The teenage version, that is." The thought disturbed me a little. I kept thinking about that spell he used on me, that supposedly revealed my true feelings about him. "He really got on my nerves with that whole stone-imp thing, but then, I don't know...I guess he has really good reasons for being the way he is. And he can be funny and nice when he wants to be." Without him around, I didn't have anybody to just hang around with. Well, other than a bathroom mirror and a baby unicorn, of course.  
  
"I'm sure he misses you, too, Dearie," The mirror told me in a soothing voice. "And the castle. Hogwarts really is a fascinating place. I love it here."  
  
"It was quite thoughtful of the house elves to pack you for me," I told it.  
  
"Well, I convinced them to," The mirror admitted. "I've always wanted to travel. The mirrors here at Hogwarts are so much friendlier than they were in the Manor, and so much more interesting. You would not believe the things that go on at this school!"  
  
"Now you're starting to sound like the Sorting Hat." I laughed. "I don't want to know about anything kinky."  
  
"That Gryffindor girl, Hermione Granger, doesn't think that Master Draco's potions accident was an accident at all."  
  
"What?" That certainly got my attention.  
  
"One of the mirrors in the Gryffindor common room told me all about it. Miss Granger told her friends that Professor Snape and the headmaster must have staged the entire thing, to prevent Master Draco from becoming a Death Eater this summer when he turns Seventeen. Besides that Longbottom boy, the other students involved in the accident were magically powerful, Slytherin boys. Isn't that a coincidence?"  
  
"That would be a good thing," I said. "But what if the Dark Lord believes that it wasn't an accident? What would he do to Professor Snape? What if he thinks my uncle is intentionally withholding Draco from becoming a Death Eater? Mr. Malfoy's not exactly on the Dark Lord's good side right now." I had just pushed my books into my leather satchel when I realized something the mirror had said. "Wait. So you can actually communicate with other mirrors?"  
  
"Oh yes, Dearie. At least the ones willing to talk to me. Some mirrors of power think they are too important to talk to the likes of me. I'm sure that using your name would capture their attention, but I don't like to name-drop, especially when I'm new here."  
  
I sighed with relief. Maybe I wouldn't have to ask Professor Dumbledore about the Silverthorn mirrors. I had been procrastinating about it, afraid that he would instantly see my motivations behind my questions. I knew that if he even suspected my conversations with my uncle, he'd never tell me anything. "I've been really curious about where the Silverthorn mirrors are here at Hogwarts," I told the bathroom mirror. "Especially the Mirror of Emit. If you could find out any information about them, I'd really appreciate it."  
  
"Why don't you ask the headmaster about them?" The mirror asked.  
  
"He just, um, seems really busy right now," I said. "He has a lot to worry about, you know. He's been trying to deal with the parents of the students that were in the accident. They've been sending him howlers." Now that I thought about it, the only one who hadn't seemed terribly upset by the incident was Mr. Malfoy. With his awful temper, he was taking it much better than I would have expected.  
  
"I also heard that the old Malfoy Manor house elf, Dobby, is missing from the Hogwarts kitchens," The mirror added.  
  
"You mean the one that Draco kept drawing?" I asked. I had finally stuck the picture in a drawer, because I got tired of hearing Dobby shriek every time Mr. Malfoy kicked him. It was just too creepy to tear up the picture or throw it away.  
  
"The same. The last few years he's been terrified of stepping out of Hogwarts, afraid of what your uncle might do to him if he caught him. It's very strange that he's disappeared. Whatever you might say about this school, it is certainly not dull here."  
  
"That's for sure." I grabbed my books and headed out the door. "I'm supposed to meet with Professor McGonagall first thing this morning. I'll see you after awhile," I told the mirror. I had a lot to think about.

* * *

Unfortunately, Transfiguring things turned out to be a lot harder than the books had made it sound. Potions had come to me so easily, it was spooky. It even seemed that I had once known everything, and Professor Snape only needed to remind me. Wand magic, however, was another thing entirely.  
  
"Why can't I do this?" I wailed. I poked the piece of pipe-cleaner with my wand. It did not move. It was supposed to be turning into a caterpillar. I had been trying for over an hour, and was still getting nowhere.  
  
"You are a beginner," Professor McGonagall told me from her desk. "Transfiguration is one of the more difficult magical arts. You can't expect to be an expert when you've never tried it before. Many of our first years experience the same frustration." She hadn't exactly warmed up to me or anything, but she seemed to have forgiven me for the whole stone- imp incident.  
  
"But the first years are just little kids! I thought I would do better. I thought I was supposed to be a, um, magical genius or something," I said with a little embarrassment. After hearing all the talk about my wand, my good breeding and how powerful I was going to be, I guess I thought that everything would come easily.  
  
"You've been listening to Professor Snape," She said, a tiny crinkle of disapproval wrinkling her brow. "Power does not always equal skill, Miss Silverthorn. No doubt you will excel at mirror magic, which includes potion making. Your mother certainly did. She and Professor Snape were the two best potions students Hogwarts had seen for years. They were actually partners in an Independent Studies class."  
  
"I didn't know that!" I wondered why Professor Snape never mentioned that. I was definitely going to have to find some old Hogwarts yearbooks to look into.  
  
"I don't wish to discourage you, Miss Silverthorn, but unfortunately, when one is exceptionally gifted in one area of magic, sometimes skills in other areas are weakened. I'm not clear why this is so, but it seems to be the rule."  
  
"You mean, like when a Muggle is great at English, he's not so good at Math."  
  
"Professor Snape, for example, is absolutely rubbish when it comes to transfiguring things. No doubt that's why he goes on about 'foolish wand waving' in class." She smirked a little, as if that fact pleased her. "Now don't worry. Nobody expects you to be perfect."  
  
"Professor Snape does," I muttered. "The man's a slave driver. I think he's still bent out of shape because I wrote my potions essay with a ball point pen. I told him he wouldn't be able to read my handwriting if I used a quill. He made me write the essay out three times before he was satisfied. I got ink everywhere. Then he tried to make me scrub the desk, the Muggle way. I lost my temper, and so he gave me detention!"  
  
"I'm afraid Professor Snape can be a wee bit difficult," She said. "But it is important for you to learn our ways in the Wizarding world. It would not do for you to stand out too much among the other students."  
  
"I already do!" I said. "I'm too old to make friends with most of the students, but I'm too young to hang out with the teachers." Professor Snape obviously saw me as a child. If that wasn't bad enough, he was constantly hanging out with Professor Lovelace. Several times I had seen them walking down to the dungeons in the evenings. Honestly! And after all that talk about wanting his privacy!  
  
Professor McGonagall pursed her lips in a sympathetic smile, but there wasn't anything she could say.  
  
After my lessons with Professors Flitwick, Sprout and Vector, I was almost finished for the day. I took my copies of "Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them," "The Care and Feeding of Unicorns,"and "The Baby Monster Book of Baby Monsters," (It didn't have teeth yet and so was easier to handle than the adult version) and headed outside to Hagrid's.  
  
In spite of his differences with my uncle in the past, Hagrid had warmed up to me quickly. So far, lessons with Hagrid consisted of having tea in his hut, being fed hard candy made from 'treacle,' and his big, ugly dog drooling on my shoes. From time to time I asked about Harry, but he just cleared his throat and muttered something like, "Ben worried 'bout Harry. He's havin' a hard time of it this year, with Sirius Black's death an' all." He studiously avoided all mention of Draco.  
  
When I arrived at Hagrid's hut today, however, he wasn't there. Smoke puffed out of his chimney, so I knew he hadn't gone far. He probably just got distracted with one of his creatures. He just got some kind of new pet that he couldn't tell me about. It was probably too dangerous. Or illegal. Or both.  
  
I went on ahead to visit the foal. Hagrid had graciously let me use a little stable with a fenced in corral where his substitute, Professor Grubbly-Plank, had kept unicorns the previous year. Unicorns don't usually like people much, so the area was away from the school, hidden by a small grove of trees.  
  
"Hi, Baby!" I called to the foal. I really did need to find a suitable name to call her, but all the ones I could come up with were either silly, cheesy, or too pompous. What the heck did you name a unicorn? "I hope you haven't been lonely without me today."  
  
The foal, much larger now that she had been restored to her natural size, pranced up to me. She moved so swiftly and delicately, that it seemed the breeze blew her along. Her hide shone buttery and golden in the evening light.  
  
"No, no!" She cried. "I talked to a butterfly, a fairy, a fox, some birds, and Fang came to visit me." Not only were animals attracted to her, but she could talk to all of them. It was just like something out of a fairy tale.  
  
"I hope Fang didn't drool on you," I said, laughing. "You have more of a social life than I do!" I kissed her on her nose. I still couldn't believe she was mine. She was more like a little person than an animal, and I couldn't feel lonely or depressed when I was around her. Hagrid had told me that unicorns are extremely magical creatures, and have many healing properties. Just spending time in her presence was cheering and comforting.  
  
I had fixed a comfortable, little bed in the stable. I settled down on it, dumping my books out to read for awhile. It was very peaceful, and through the open door I could see the rolling green hills and the sunset. I smelled the smoke from Hagrid's chimney on the evening breeze. I was just beginning to relax when the foal starting romping around excitedly.  
  
"There's somebody coming," She told me.  
  
"Have you finally chosen a name for your familiar?" The Grey Lady asked me. "I believe you were looking for a literary one." She hovered in front of me, so pale and transparent that I could see the wooden slats of the stables through her gown. I was starting to get used to her sudden appearances. She was one of the few ghosts of Hogwarts who could actually leave the castle, and she took a particular interest in my studies.  
  
"Well, one of the books that my mom used to read to me was called "The Last Unicorn," by Peter Beagle," I told her. "I loved that book. They even made an animated movie that I must have watched a hundred times. But I don't think they ever gave the unicorn an actual name."  
  
"I recall that the creature remains unnamed until Schmendrick the Magician transforms her into a woman," The ghost told me. "Then her name becomes Lady Amalthea."  
  
"That's right!" I said excitedly. "I forgot about that."  
  
"No doubt Mr. Beagle got the name from the ancient Muggle myth, in which Amalthea was a sacred wild goat who nursed the god Zeus. He broke one of her horns off, transformed it into the first cornucopia and placed Amalthea amongst the stars as the constellation Capra. The name also referred to the goddess of plenty. It is also the name of one of the planet Jupiter's moons, and-"  
  
"Alright, alright." I laughed. And People thought that _I _read too much. I guess if you had lots of time to read for the past five hundred years or so, you'd know just about everything. I thought about telling her to get a life, but maybe that would've been a mean thing to say to a ghost.  
  
"And, as I was about to say before being interrupted, the name comes from the Greek word _malthasso_, meaning "To soothe." It also has Arabic origins, and may be translated as "hope."  
  
"I do find her very soothing." I stroked the foal's nose, and she snorted into my hair. I was totally in love with her, and she made me feel hopeful for the first time in months. I suppose that since the little thing had lost her parents, when I comforted her, I comforted myself as well. "That's her name, then. Amalthea." I sighed with happiness.  
  
"I also seem to recall in the story, the manipulative, powerful dark wizard who wished to entrap the unicorn. He lured the Lady Amalthea into trusting him. In the end, however, he betrayed her by sending the red bull after her."  
  
"What are you trying to say?" I had the feeling a lecture was coming, one that I wouldn't like.  
  
"Only that you are in an emotionally vulnerable state. I realize that having such a powerful, well-known, wealthy, handsome father-figure such as Mr. Malfoy in your life could be very alluring. I just don't want you to become hurt by him. He can be ruthless, and if he wants something from you, he will stop at nothing to obtain it."  
  
"I just keep thinking that he could have been so different if it hadn't been for the Dark Lord," I said. The last couple of times I'd seen him he had actually seemed pleasant and rather affectionate.  
  
"Yes," She said gently. "But you cannot judge people by their potential, or what they might have been. You must see them as they are."  
  
After the Ghost had left, I wondered about what she had said. My uncle Lucius was a dangerous man, and since I had begun school here at Hogwarts, I had heard plenty of stories about him. Hagrid still held a grudge toward him for trying to have Buckbeak destroyed. The Weasleys still hated him for slipping Tom Riddle's diary into Ginny's cauldron and almost getting her killed. Hermione hated him for his prejudice against Muggleborns. And of course Harry hated him for...well, lots of things.  
  
I couldn't help but wonder, was the Grey Lady right? Maybe I shouldn't trust my uncle. Could I really trust him with something as powerful as a mirror that could change past events? Just the idea that I could see my mother again, however, made me want to ignore my doubts. I knew that Mr. Malfoy had done many evil things, but he had a strange kind of honor when it came to family. I believed that if he swore something to me that he would see it done.  
  
I was so lost in my thoughts, that I didn't realize it was growing late until the stars started to appear.  
  
"I guess I should go inside," I told Almathea. "I might go by and check in with Hagrid. Just so he knows that I've been reading the assignments."  
  
I was walking on the pathway that led to Hagrid's hut, when something ran right into me. I hung onto it, but my legs tangled up and I ended up landing on top of it. It was something soft, squishy, and invisible! I began to poke around on it, in fascination. It was obviously a body.  
  
"Miriel, get off." Harry Potter's voice sounded muffled and breathless.  
  
I sat off of him, and suddenly Harry was sitting there, a silky cloak of some kind in his hands.  
  
"I'm sorry, Harry," I said. "Are you okay?"  
  
"Yeah," He told me, standing and brushing the grass off his clothes. "I had detention with Hagrid this evening."  
  
"That must be why he forgot my lesson today," I said, before I remembered that Harry was likely serving part of his detention for hexing me on the train.  
  
"I had to help him with the Hippocampus. It's been laying eggs in the lake, and Hagrid is afraid the giant squid will eat the tadfoals when they hatch."  
  
"Hippocampus?"  
  
"It's kind of like a horse," Harry said. "Only it has the tail and hindquarters of a giant fish. It's not _too_ dangerous." The boy's voice was quiet, but I sensed a reserve about him, and he wouldn't meet my eyes. "I stayed a little too late, so now I'm passed curfew."  
  
"And you have that cloak," I looked at the material in his hands. "That makes you invisible?"  
  
"Look, I don't really want anybody knowing about this," He said curtly, and began walking away.  
  
"Harry, why have you been avoiding me? I'm really sorry about the whole thing with the Daily Prophet. I didn't mean for you to be embarrassed. And I didn't know that Draco was going to steal those stone-imps on the train. I was keeping them to give to Professor Snape, and-"  
  
"I saw you, Miriel." Harry turned around to face me. "I saw you with Voldemort."  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
Harry stepped closer to me, and his shoulders stiffened. His face was set with determination. "I had a dream about you, the night before we got on the Hogwarts Express. Sometimes I dream about things that Voldemort does. Snape brought you to Voldemort, and the Dark Lord tortured a man for you. It was supposed to be..." He swallowed. "A reward, or a gift, or something. I didn't see everything."  
  
"I didn't ask him to do that," I whispered, horrified.  
  
"I told Professor Dumbledore about it." Harry's voice was flat and resentful. "As usual, he wouldn't tell me the whole story. He always wants to protect me. He thinks I can't handle things because I'm a kid. He told me not to worry about anything, and to show you around the school. Hagrid says you have to be okay, because you have a pet unicorn, and they won't touch anybody who's evil."  
  
"I don't serve the Dark Lord," I told him. "I could never do that. I know it must look bad to you, me being related to the Malfoys..."  
  
"And being engaged to Draco Malfoy!" Harry looked ill. "Ron even thinks you have something to do with Dobby's disappearance."  
  
"What?" I cried.  
  
"Dobby disappeared soon after you arrived. He would never leave Hogwarts. He loves it here. Mr. Malfoy would love to get his hands on him. He treated Dobby really badly, and he thinks of Dobby as a traitor for helping me." Harry's words tumbled out in a rush, and I could tell that he had been quite upset.  
  
"Harry, I would never do anything to hurt a house elf. Or you. Or anybody!" I ended up telling Harry everything that had happened to me. I told him how the Dark Lord killed my father, how my mother had escaped to the States, and how Mr. Malfoy found me. I told him all the details of my meeting with the Dark Lord. "The only reason the Dark Lord let me come to school here, Harry, was because he wanted me to spy on you. But I don't have any intention of doing that. Professor Dumbledore told me to let him and Snape handle the Dark Lord. Voldemort killed my father, Harry. And my mother let herself be abused because she couldn't expose herself as a witch by defending herself with magic. Why would I want to serve the Dark Lord?" I became more passionate the longer I talked, and I finally broke down in tears.  
  
"I'm sorry, Miriel," Harry finally said after awhile. "I guess things haven't been easy for you. Is it okay if I tell Hermione and Ron some of what you told me? I won't tell them everything."  
  
"Yes," I sniffed. "Maybe Ron will stop with his conspiracy theories."  
  
"Come on," Harry told me. "It's getting dark. Let's get back to the castle." On the way, he told me a little about this year before I had arrived. He was still struggling with the death of his Godfather, Sirius Black. He had been having trouble concentrating in classes, and he was plagued with nightmares. He had been dreaming of something terrible happening to Ron.  
  
"The whole thing with the Daily Prophet just topped it off," He said. "I mean, they spent all that time trying to make me look like a joke, and now that there's been evidence of Voldemort's return, I'm suddenly a hero again. They can't leave me alone. I just want a normal life. I just want to go back to being a Muggle, sometimes."  
  
"Me, too," I told him.  
  
"Would it be okay if I come by your quarters some time? Aren't they in the dungeons?"  
  
"Sure," I said. "I'll ask my uncle about Dobby, if you like."  
  
Once I was back in my room, I found the small, square mirror that my uncle had given to me. "Lucius Malfoy," I whispered to it. I wondered if I was supposed to tap it with my wand.  
  
Almost instantly, the edges of the mirror glowed. The surface of the glass was just the right size to see my uncle's grey eyes in it.  
  
"Yes, Miriel." Mr. Malfoy's voice was quite clear, much clearer than if he had been speaking into a telephone. "Have you discovered something about the Mirror of Emit?"  
  
"No. Um, I had a question for you. About Dobby."  
  
Mr. Malfoy frowned, and I heard him sigh with exasperation. "Please tell me that you did not contact me to talk about my ex-servant, that little, traitorous piece of filth!"  
  
"He's disappeared from Hogwarts," I said. "Nobody can find him, and some of the kids think that I actually had something to do with it. You didn't kidnap him or anything, did you?"  
  
There was a long silence. "Dobby is gone? From the school?"  
  
"Yeah," I said. "Is there something wrong?"  
  
The eyes in the mirror reflected concern. "That house elf knows Malfoy Manor and its grounds better than anyone. I changed the wards after he left, but he knows where they are located, and he is familiar with the kinds of spells I prefer to use." After a moment, he continued. "It would have been impossible to have kidnapped Dobby on the school grounds. No one could have apparated into Hogwarts. No, Dobby must have been persuaded to leave the school."  
  
"But why would he have done that?" I asked.  
  
"Revenge," My uncle said. "It may be that the Dark Lord has decided that I have outlived my usefulness."

* * *

Many thanks to my wonderful reviewers!  
  
Thank you, Shadowstar21, Merryday, Lala-the-panda, ice-princess42, eaterofdeath, Carosu and Moonjasmine.  
  
Dragonwing: Thank you for your review. Yes, I love the little unicorn, too. I wish I had one! I like your description of the little mirror as being a wizard cell-phone. HA! Actually, Sirius Black gave one just like it to Harry in the fifth book, but poor Sirius died before he had a chance to use it.  
  
Arsinoe de Blassenville: I'm glad you like the unicorn. I loved unicorns before they got to be popular. Thank you so much for reminding me of Lady Amalthea. I had to run down and buy "The Last Unicorn" on DVD- I hadn't seen it since high school. The music is beautiful. The only unicorn I could remember was in the Chronicles of Narnia, and I thought his name, "Jewel," was a little cheesy. I absolutely love your story, by the way.  
  
Escaped: Your reviews are always so inspiring! I'm glad you like little Draco. I was trying to show a little of what life might have been like for the Malfoys during the years that Voldie was banished. Yes, I gave myself fuzzies writing about hugging Uncle Lucius. HA! I think it's fun to write about different sides to the characters. Like I think that Dobby has a secret, evil vengeful side that he never shows to Harry Potter...  
  
Rycca Wolfbane: Too bad about your brother. I hope he didn't ruin your trip to LA. Did you have a cup of coffee for me at the Café Du Monde? You silly, the unicorn is just a baby, you can't send her into the forbidden forest all by herself! She doesn't have a horn to defend herself against the werewolves, giant spiders, centaurs, and such... ( 


	19. Chapter Nineteen

Author's Note: Sorry that updates have been kind of slow lately. I'm still trying to finish my thesis and website for school. I work on my HP story a little each evening, but I'm pretty brain-dead after writing on my thesis paper all day. Only a couple more weeks, and then I can be free to write my little Harry-Potterish heart out! Thank you for all your reviews and your patience.

* * *

Chapter Nineteen 

"It's a bit complicated," My mirror told me. "The other bathroom mirrors I've spoken with seem a little confused. They've told me that the Mirror of Emit is here in the castle, and yet, _not_ in the castle."  
  
"What does _that _mean?" I asked it.  
  
"I'm not sure. I'm going to have to speak with some of the older, more powerful mirrors to get a straight answer. It has something to do with wizards' use of space. Wizards are not confined to the same rules of space as Muggles are. There are other dimensions Muggles don't usually use, you know."  
  
"Well, thanks for trying," I said, trying to keep the disappointment out of my voice. "I guess Professor Dumbledore would have to do something really complicated to prevent the Ministry of Magic from finding the mirror."  
  
"Don't worry, Dearie, I will get to the bottom of it all," My mirror said with determination in its voice. It was now a mirror with a mission.  
  
I leaned back into my chair with a cup of tea and sighed. The flames from my fireplace felt warm and cozy. The dungeons were cooler than the rest of the castle, especially at night, and I often felt that it should be winter. I felt drained from the day, but I was relieved that I had finally managed to sort things out with Harry. I even received a note from him telling me that he and Hermione wanted to visit tomorrow after they were through with their Muggle Studies class.  
  
I glanced over the latest issue of the Daily Prophet. The headline read, "Celebrity Wizard Recovers from Tragic Accident and Reaches Once Again for the Stars." Evidently, a famous wizard named Gilderoy Lockhart had partially recovered from a memory-loss accident at St. Mungo's. His newspaper photo smiled dashingly at me, and I could tell that he was a real babe. Because his memory had not been completely restored, the wizard couldn't return to his former career of fighting evil, but he had managed to launch a line of hair care potions. His latest product was a vanilla, sugar-plum scented conditioning potion for witches with ultra-long hair.  
  
"Wow," I said to the photograph. "I have to try this stuff."  
  
The gorgeous wizard in the picture winked at me.  
  
I'm afraid I had become rather addicted to owl-order shopping in the short time I'd lived at Hogwarts. In New Orleans I hadn't had any extra spending money in quite a long time, and now I had an entire Gringott's account filled to the ceiling with Galleons. There were always such interesting items for sale in the Daily Prophet! You received your orders much more quickly here than in the Muggle world. I had just filled out the enclosed order form and sent it off by owl when I heard a voice from the direction of the fireplace.  
  
"Miss Silverthorn, would you please come to Professor Dumbledore's office immediately?"  
  
Startled, I looked up to see Professor McGonagall's head poking up out of the flames!  
  
"I'm sorry to startle you. Please floo. It's very important." Her head disappeared.  
  
I was in my nightgown, and hurried to get a robe on. I grabbed a handful of silvery powder from a bowl on the hearth and flung it into the flames a little nervously. "Professor Dumbledore's office," I said, and stepped through the emerald flames.  
  
In the headmaster's office, I was quite surprised to find not only Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall, but Twinky. She stood there nervously, with several pieces of baggage. A miserable looking Draco was curled up in the chair in front of the headmaster's desk. The poor kid was crying. Professor Dumbledore had obviously been trying to comfort him, because the little boy was holding a stuffed dragon and a bag of lemon drops in his lap.  
  
"Baby, what's wrong?" I picked him up and held him, finally sitting down in the chair myself as Draco sniffed into my shoulder.  
  
"My mummy and daddy are leaving the castle," He hiccupped, "Tonight. And I can't go with them. I have to stay here."  
  
"Leaving?" I looked up at the professors.  
  
"It seems that Lucius suspects that his good standing with Voldemort is about to disintegrate," Professor Dumbledore told me. "He has received warnings from both you and Severus about recent events which make him...distrustful. After bringing his son here, he left in quite a hurry. He and Narcissa have decided to place Draco in your custody."  
  
"_My_ custody?" I looked at the little boy in my arms. "You mean, I'm responsible for him? I don't really know anything about taking care of little boys." It wasn't like I'd had any young relatives while growing up.  
  
"His parents feel that Hogwarts is the safest place for him at this time," The headmaster said. "All of Narcissa's relatives are directly in contact with Voldemort. Minerva, if you don't mind, would you please escort Twinky and Draco to Miriel's quarters. Please add another room or two if you need to." He turned to me. "There's no point in frightening the poor boy any more tonight with what I'm about to discuss with you."  
  
"I'll be right there in just a minute, okay, Baby?" I said, setting Draco down. After the trio left the room, the headmaster's expression became quite grave.  
  
"My dear, this is very important. If something should happen to Lucius- if Voldemort chooses a new leader among his ranks of Death Eaters, things could become very dangerous for you and Draco. It's best if neither of you leave the school grounds. It has been the custom of the Dark Lord to exterminate entire families, as a warning to those who would displease him. If he should choose a new leader from one of the Slytherins' parents, the Slytherins will no doubt turn against Draco. He has been a social leader at this school because of his father's standing with the Dark Lord."  
  
"But he's just a little kid, now," I said incredulously. "He couldn't hurt anybody."  
  
"Which may be for the best," Dumbledore said. "He's no longer a threat to anyone, and so doesn't have to fight his classmates to regain leadership or to save face. Being a child at this particular time may very well save his life. Severus tells me that the teenager has been practicing dueling and Muggle combat techniques this last year, but there is no way that he could have taken on his entire house."  
  
"But, Professor, where will the Malfoys go? How can my uncle hide from the Dark Lord? I thought that with the Dark Mark on his arm, it was impossible. The Dark Lord will be able to track him down anywhere."  
  
"Severus assures me that there are a couple of possibilities in which a Death Eater may temporarily avoid the effects of the Dark Mark," Professor Dumbledore told me. "If Lucius could manage to obtain it in time, the Polyjuice potion, for example, changes ones appearance. In theory, while under the influence of this potion, the wizard would have a new body that would no longer bear the Mark. There is also a new Animagus potion, which gives the wizard the temporary ability to transform into an animal. That one may not be very practical for Lucius, however."  
  
"Can't the Ministry of Magic help him?" I asked.  
  
"A secret department of the Ministry has begun to experiment with potions to remove the Dark Mark, hoping that if they are successful, that they could convince Death Eaters to defect and turn against Voldemort. As far as I know, however, they have not been successful."  
  
I crossed my arms and bowed my head against the cold, heavy fear that seemed to fill my stomach. What would I do if my uncle was destroyed by the Dark Lord? Sometimes he was downright scary, but he was the only family I had. I knew he wasn't my father, but he was the closest thing that I would ever have to one. And then I suddenly realized that if anything happened to him, he couldn't use the Mirror of Emit to bring my mother back to me. All hopes of seeing her again would be gone.  
  
"My dear Miriel," Professor Dumbledore stood beside me and patted my shoulder. "As I've said before, everything has a way of working out." I looked up. His blue eyes were deeply concerned, and I had that strange feeling that he knew exactly what I was thinking.  
  
By the headmaster's expression, it seemed he wanted to tell me something terribly important, but changed his mind. "Why don't you see to your new charge? As admirable as house elves are, I think that Draco may need more comforting than Twinky can provide."  
  
I decided to walk back to the dungeons in order to clear my head a bit. Before I left his office, I turned to Professor Dumbledore. "Professor, you can restore Draco to his original age, can't you? He won't be a little kid forever?"  
  
"I am pleased to say that, at least, is under our control. That however, must remain our little secret." The headmaster winked at me, and I left.  
  
I walked down the dungeon corridor to my quarters, lost in my own thoughts. I was so busy worrying about the situation with my uncle, that I didn't even notice when Professor Snape and the new Muggle Studies teacher turned the corner. I almost ran right into them.  
  
"Watch where you're going, you clumsy girl." Professor Snape's voice was low and waspish.  
  
My face burned with embarrassment that he would talk to me that way in front of Professor Lovelace. "Excuse me, Professor Grouchy-Butt." I don't know what possessed me to mutter that, except that I was tired, upset, and I was not in the mood to deal with his nastiness tonight. I was still mad over receiving detention for the whole ball-point pen episode, and unfortunately, I had probably just earned another one.  
  
"Fifty points from Ravenclaw." Professor Snape said, with a snarl on his face.  
  
"I don't care," I snapped at him furiously. "I have more important things to worry about than a stupid house cup. You might intimidate all the little kids around here, but I am an _adult_."  
  
"You will address me with respect." The fury on his face became truly frightening. He lunged forward as though he was about to pounce on me, when the small witch grabbed his arm.  
  
"Severus," She began, and there was a hint of warning in her voice.  
  
To my surprise, he stopped in his tracks. "Detention," He spat at me. "Starting tomorrow night. 5:00 o'clock. Don't you dare be late." With that, he spun around and marched down the corridor, followed by Professor Lovelace. She smiled at me as she went by, and she seemed to find the entire thing rather amusing. I again had the strangest feeling that she somehow knew me.  
  
I sighed. "So much for my love-life," I muttered. "Professor Lovelace can have the jerk." Why couldn't I fall for someone charming and handsome, like Gilderoy Lockhart? Maybe Mr. Malfoy's idea about inflicting the stone- imps on Professor Snape hadn't been such a bad idea after all. Maybe if I was lucky, Draco would make a lot of noise in the dungeons and drive the potions master up the wall. I could get a bunch of the other little, wizard kids and we could all have a big party...  
  
Twinky must have wasted little time unpacking Draco's things, because my quarters looked like a wizard preschool. The place was full of toy cauldrons, play-potions sets, magical coloring books and little wizard action-figures that were already beginning to crawl around on the furniture. Did the Malfoys actually buy him all this stuff since he had been involved in the potions accident?  
  
"Thanks a lot, Professor," I told Professor McGonagall, when I saw that she had transfigured two new rooms to the place. All of this junk was going to go in one of them. Strangely enough, I noticed that there was no logical way that the rooms could have fit into my quarters. Yet there they were.  
  
"You're certainly going to have your hands full, Miss Silverthorn." The witch looked at me with something like pity in her eyes. "The poor wee lad is in his room, crying his eyes out. I'm afraid I was never very good with children."  
  
"It's going to be okay, Baby." I walked into Draco's room, and found him on his bed. A huge, emerald-encrusted toad hopped around at the foot of it. I sat next to the little boy and put my arm around him. "You'll have fun here. You can help me plant Star-Flowers in the unicorn corral. Hagrid got me some plants that grow in the Forbidden forest, the kinds that Amalthea will like to eat."  
  
At the mention of the unicorn, Draco seemed to cheer up a little. "Really? I thought that only house elves did the gardening."  
  
"Well it's more fun when you do it yourself," I told him. "Why don't you get your jammies on, and I'll read you a story." Luckily, Professor McGonagall had enlarged the clothes closet, and I found an entire section of silk pajamas. Honestly, how many clothes did one little kid need? Mr. Malfoy had obviously planned for Draco to stay here for quite a while.  
  
As Draco got ready for bed, I searched through the book titles on my bookshelves. "What kind of stories do you like?" I asked. "My mama used to read these to me. Some of them even belonged to her when she was a little girl."  
  
"I want one with giant spiders in it," The little boy told me, climbing into bed. He had set Ambrosius on the pillow next to him so he could hear the story, too. It really was a huge toad. Personally, I didn't think he looked too impressed.  
  
"Baby, don't you think your toad would be happier outside?"  
  
Draco shook his head. "No, he's afraid of Dobby and the bad men. He heard my mummy and daddy talking about it."  
  
"Well, there are no bad men here at Hogwarts," I assured him. "Everybody is safe here. What if he messes on your pillow?"  
  
"He's house-broken. See?" Draco pointed to the floor, where a small area was covered with issues of the Daily Prophet.  
  
I rolled my eyes. Now I'd heard of everything.  
  
"I think it's a good idea to read something cheerful tonight," I told him. "Without giant spiders. Let's see, there's 'The Hobbit.' That has a dragon in it. There's 'The Unicorn With Silver Shoes,' 'Finn Family Moomintroll,' 'The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe..."  
  
"I like dragons," He announced.  
  
"The Hobbit it is, then." I took the book off the shelf and nearly broke my neck tripping over a toy cauldron.  
  
Later on, I was finally falling asleep when I felt Draco slip into my bed. I kept my eyes closed, but I felt something big, scratchy and squishy all at the same time wriggle under the covers and brush up against my leg.  
  
"Gah!" I sat up. "That toad is not sleeping in my bed!"  
  
"Ambrosius is afraid of sleeping alone," Draco told me. "He's afraid of the Orcs and the Goblins."  
  
"Baby, Goblins aren't real," I said, before realizing that in the wizarding world, they _did_ exist. Gringott's was full of them. "I mean, no Orcs or Goblins can come here." I sighed. "Ambrosius can sleep on top of the covers, but if he squirms around too much, he's going on the floor." I was really going to have to work at not being such a pushover.

* * *

So far, we had been planting for almost three hours. Actually, I had been planting. Draco had been playing in the dirt, looking at bugs, attempting to eat the flowers, and running around playing with the foal. The kid had unlimited energy. I got tired out just watching him, but at least he was happy and not thinking about his parents.  
  
"Is he bothering you, Baby?" I asked Amalthea.  
  
"No, he's just a foal," She said, "He's funny." She bent her head down and began eating the flowers that I was trying to plant.  
  
"Stop that," I said, trying to push her nose away. "Don't you think you should save some for later? You're not a unicorn, you're a pig." I was quite startled when I heard a deep voice recite behind me:  
  
_**"They fed it, not with corn, **_

_**But only with the possibility of being.**_

_**And that was able to confer such strength,**_

_**Its brow put forth a horn. One horn.**_

_**Whitely it stole up to a maid- to be Within the Silver mirror and in her."  
**_  
"Bad man!" Amalthea reared, and in a flash, she was gone. She was so fast, I didn't even see her leave, but I knew she must have run into the stable.  
  
"Wait!" Draco ran after her.  
  
I looked behind me, and my mouth fell open. "Professor Snape? Was that, um, wizard poetry?"  
  
"Yes. Rainer Maria Rilke, to be exact. I thought that it was interesting that he included a silver mirror in the last line." Professor Snape's voice seemed more subdued than usual. The man leaned against the fence, blinking against the bright sunlight. His face was very pale. He clearly needed to get out of the dungeons more often. Now that I saw him outside, I noticed how tired he looked, and his face was heavily lined as though he hadn't been sleeping much.  
  
"For some reason, you don't seem much like the poetry type." I stood and brushed the dirt off my jeans. "Can I help you with something, Professor? Or are you just out on a nature walk?"  
  
"I have come to request something from you." I could tell from the look on his face that he loathed asking it.  
  
I raised my eyebrows. "Oh, really?"  
  
"Professor Lovelace is assisting me in a potions experiment," He said. "Which includes your stone-imps. A critical ingredient for the project is unicorn's blood. It is quite convenient that your uncle obtained such a creature for you."  
  
"But I thought that unicorn's blood was only used in dark magic," I said. "Or to make mirrors." I tried not to think about the poor, little stone- imps giving up their lives for one of Professor Snapes potions. I guess it was bound to happen sooner or later.  
  
"It is important that the blood be given freely by the donor. Otherwise, it is cursed, and defiles any spell or potion."  
  
"I don't think I can help you, Professor." I said cooly. "Not unless you apologize for being so rude last night. You didn't need to get nasty, especially in front of your..._friend_."  
  
The Professor gave me a long, evaluating look. "Petty jealousy does not become you, Miss Silverthorn. You are being childish. This experiment is important, and it could save lives. It could ultimately win the war against Voldemort."  
  
"Then I guess you won't mind apologizing," I told him, crossing my arms. "Or at least taking off my detentions."  
  
"Actually, there will be no detention tonight," The professor said quietly. "I am expecting to be summoned by the Dark Lord." His facial expression didn't change, but I sensed his dread.  
  
"Oh." I immediately felt ashamed of myself. He would be reporting to Voldemort on what I supposedly was finding out about Harry Potter, while I remained safe at Hogwarts. I wondered what he would find out about my uncle. "What do you want me to do? I don't think that Amalthea will let you touch her. She's kind of funny like that."  
  
Professor Snape held out his hand, and there was the same kind of Muggle syringe that he had used on me in the classroom.  
  
"Ugh! You have _got_ to be joking!" I told him. "I can't do that!"

* * *

Many thanks to my reviewers! Even the ones who are lurking out there and reviewing only in their heads (You know who you are!) ;-)  
  
Escaped: Thanx for your support. Yeah, the whole potions accident really came as a shock to me, too! Dumbledore is so sneaky, he's even been surprising me. You know, I thought about killing off Lucius, but I just couldn't do that. I love the guy too much (sniff!) He and I could have had something good going if he only existed in real life...  
  
Hannah: Thank you so much. Me wants a unicorn, too! Yeah, under all that cuteness, I think Dobby is really an evil little terror. Kind of like those Gremlins in the cheesy movie.  
  
Shadowstar21: I can't wait to find out what happens, either! I am constantly surprised by this story. My characters won't behave and do what I tell them to.  
  
Rycca Wolfbane: I loved "The Last Unicorn," too. Wow- that's a heavy book to read when you're seven years old! When I had Peter Beagle as a writing instructor in California, it was after he had written his screenplay for the animated LOTR movie. He whined about how much it sucked, and how much he wanted to throw the script in the trash. It's somehow comforting to know that even professional writers can be too hard on themselves.  
  
Arsinoe de Blassenville: Thank you so much for your reviews- they are always so insightful, and they give me good ideas. Since you like history so much, perhaps you can write a crossover story. Hermione has an accident with her time-turner, and goes back in time to the American Revolution only to fall in love with Colonel Tavington. YAAAY! Oh well, just a thought...Sigh. 


	20. Chapter Twenty

Author's Notes: Have any of you ever read the book, "The Neverending Story?" Well, I'm writing the Neverending Thesis. Sigh... I'm on page 65 and I'm getting pretty sick of it! If this chapter isn't as exciting as usual, it's because I'm brain-dead.  
  
Little Draco is actually modeled after my nephew, SugarBoo, who is staying with me right now. Strangely enough, he is blond with grey eyes, and acts not unlike Draco. Right now SugarBoo is watching "The Last Unicorn" on DVD and is getting spaghetti all over my couch. He's a little creep, but I love him.

* * *

Chapter Twenty "So you're not even going to tell me what kind of project you're working on?" I asked Professor Snape, handing him the vial of shining, silvery blood. The liquid actually seemed luminous, as if lit from within. The needle hadn't hurt Amalthea at all. Drawing her blood had almost made me sick, but she had been completely unconcerned. She still refused to stick her nose out of the Stable until Professor Snape left, however.  
  
"I am sure you will be informed of it in time," The Professor told me. "I assume that the headmaster has warned you of the dangerous situation that could arise if the Dark Lord chooses a new leader among his Death Eaters?"  
  
I nodded. I glanced over at Draco, who was preoccupied with poking some kind of bug he had found in our new garden.  
  
"Unicorn blood is very potent," The Professor continued. "And it has powerful healing properties. It will not restore life, nor impart immortality, but it will heal many wounds. It would be prudent to keep some on your person."  
  
"Could I keep some in this?" I plucked one of my dragon hair sticks out of my braids and removed the emerald top. "Draco told me that these were good for storing potions and stuff in."  
  
"Indeed." Professor Snape studied the dragon-shaped vial, and his long hands were steady as he carefully poured some of the silvery substance into it. "Please be careful, Miss Silverthorn. I'm not entirely clear what will transpire tonight with the Dark Lord, but most likely, it will not be good. The Dark Lord has never favored women, but Bellatrix has proven herself capable of tremendous loyalty. She attempted to find and restore the Dark Lord after his banishment, spent those years in Azkaban after openly refusing to recant her allegiance, and last year she killed Sirius Black. She has been planting suspicion in the Dark Lord's mind about Lucius, and since the whole affair between Lucius and the Ministry of Magic, he's been only too eager to listen."  
  
The Professor was a strange person, I thought. Sometimes under all his nastiness, I sensed that he cared about people deeply. "Professor, were you friends with my mother?"  
  
Professor Snape considered a moment before he said, "She was one of the few students at this school who genuinely respected my intelligence. She also had the good sense not to idolize Black and his little band of idiots. She actually insulted James Potter one year when he assumed she would accompany him to the Yule ball." He smiled a bit at the memory.  
  
"I respect you, too," I told him earnestly. "I do. I was just really upset when I ran into you in the dungeons. I, um, hope that nothing bad happens to you tonight."  
  
The Professor looked at me intently, and I had the feeling that he was a bit uncomfortable. "Miss Silverthorn," He said, so softly that I had to lean closer to hear him. "You are very young."  
  
"I'm nineteen!" I knew that since wizards lived so much longer than Muggles, large age differences between wizards and witches weren't as big of a deal.  
  
"You are an innocent," Professor Snape said, and his voice was rough with pain. "You are as innocent as your familiar. She can't bear to be near me. She can't even bear to look at me, because of the things I've done, the things I've seen..."  
  
"But it wasn't entirely your fault," I said. "You _had_ to do terrible things."  
  
Professor Snape sighed, and pinched the bridge of his nose as if warding off a headache.  
  
I had a dreadful feeling that I wasn't going to like what he was about to say next, but just before his reply, Draco began screaming. It startled me. I had been so engrossed in my conversation that I hadn't been watching him. The little boy ran up to me, his hand covered in blood.  
  
"Baby, what is it?" I grabbed his wrist and tried to look at the wound.  
  
Draco howled, and I could barely make out the words "big bug." I took out a handkerchief and dabbed at the blood. His skin actually looked as though it had been burned by acid. Remembering what Professor Snape had told me, I opened the top of my hair stick, and dabbed a drop of the unicorn blood on the little boy's wound. To my amazement, it healed instantly and perfectly. The skin actually grew back in front of me.  
  
"Miss Silverthorn, when I cautioned you to keep some of the unicorn blood in case of an emergency, I was not referring to an attack by a flesh-eating slug," Professor Snape said over Draco's screams. "You will need to ask Hagrid for some repellent." With that, he gave a strange, little smirk, and glided away, his black robes billowing behind him. He was probably relieved by the distraction.  
  
"Baby, you can stop crying now," I told Draco. "Your hand is all better." Honestly, even at such a young age, he was a bit of a drama-prince.

* * *

"Draco Malfoy!" I looked up for the hundredth time from my copy of 'A Beginner's Guide To Transfigurations.' "I am trying to study. If you kick Twinky one more time, I'll- I'll give you a time out!"  
  
The little boy and the house elf each looked at me as if I'd lost my mind. Finally, Draco realized that I had just threatened him with some kind of punishment.  
  
"You're not my mummy!" Draco said, and ran for his room.  
  
I laid my head down on my book and sighed. Taking care of a five-year old was a full time job. Any mention of taking a bath to wash the garden dirt off him made the little boy flee as if an entire herd of flesh-eating slugs was chasing him. He had already escaped my quarters once today without me knowing it, and I found him down in one of the potions classrooms. Twinky wasn't much help. After all, she was magically bound to obey Draco, so she wasn't a very good disciplinarian.  
  
"Twinky, why don't you take the day off today?" I told the elf.  
  
To my surprise, the house elf looked confused, and burst into tears. "Twinky is sorry, Missy. Twinky is sorry she is bad." She continued to cry and beat her head against the wall, until I promised her that she could scrub the kitchen area. Again. How was I going to keep my sanity living with these two? Studying was impossible with both of them distracting me.  
  
I was relieved when someone knocked on my door, and Harry and Hermione showed up with their books for Muggle studies. It was nice to have visitors. Well, grown-up ones, at least.  
  
"Your hair looks really great," I told Hermione. It was much sleeker and shinier than I remembered it.  
  
"Thank you," The girl said a bit shyly. "It took me forever to get the knots out. Professor Dumbledore helped me get the stone-imps out of my hair. He got them in his beard one time when he was on a Muggle tour of Newgrange."  
  
She and Harry sat on the sofa, and I made some tea for them. They glanced around my room curiously, noticing the crayon drawings that plastered the walls (a few were actually _**on**_ the walls) the toys that cluttered the living room, and Twinky sitting on the kitchen counter scrubbing the sink.  
  
For some reason, Hermione looked rather offended when she saw the house elf.  
  
"Twinky, would you like some tea, too?" I asked.  
  
The house elf's huge eyes grew even larger. "Tea? Tea? Missy is asking Twinky if she wants tea?" She burst into hysterical tears. "Missy is too good to Twinky!"  
  
"I've been trying to give her a vacation," I told Hermione. I didn't want her to think that I had anything against house elves, especially after all the suspicions over Dobby. "But I think she has to stay here to protect Draco."  
  
"Draco's here?" Harry said. "Oh, I was wondering about the toys and stuff." He reached beneath him and pulled out a wizard action-figure from beneath him. The doll made a huge fuss about having been sat upon, and Harry finally stuffed him beneath a cushion.  
  
As if on cue, Draco glided into the room. The little boy rode a toy broomstick around my quarters, his feet dangling a few inches off the floor. It looked like he was chasing a tiny, golden ball with wings that flew just beyond his reach. "This broomstick is too slow," He wailed. "I need a real one! I won't fall off!"  
  
"Oh," Hermione said, wide eyed. "He's just so..._cute_. I never thought I'd ever use that word to describe Draco Malfoy."  
  
"Maybe they'll keep him like this," Harry muttered. "He'll be a lot less trouble."  
  
"What's your name?" Draco asked Harry.  
  
"Harry Potter."  
  
"You can't be Harry Potter. He's a little boy, like me. My daddy always says that I have to be better than him. He says that if a half-blood boy can vanquish the Dark Lord, what should a pure-blood Malfoy boy be able to do?" Draco's lips turned down sulkily, and for a moment he looked like he was about to cry. "I don't like Harry Potter."  
  
"Baby, you are good enough just as you are," I told the little boy. "Your daddy just told you that to make you try harder at things, but he was wrong. You'll always be just as good as Harry Potter or anyone else."  
  
"My daddy's _never_ wrong," Draco said, but the look on his face was unsure.  
  
"How terrible," Hermione said. "No wonder Draco hates Harry so much."  
  
"He's staying with me for awhile," I told them. "I told my uncle about Dobby disappearing, and now he's paranoid that the house elf is going to help Death Eaters break into Malfoy Manor to attack him."  
  
"Dobby?" Harry said, as though he couldn't believe it. "He's harmless. He wouldn't do anything like that, even if Mr. Malfoy deserved it."  
  
"I don't know about that, Harry." Hermione chewed her lip thoughtfully. "You know, Dobby worships you because you freed him. We don't know what he could do to someone he hated. Look at Kreacher." She looked like she instantly regretted saying that.  
  
"Dobby isn't anything like that- that evil, low-life _thing_!" Harry became so upset that his face flushed pink. His eyes glittered wetly.  
  
"Sorry, Harry," Hermione whispered.  
  
I busied myself getting some cookies and milk out for Draco. He got off his broomstick long enough to eat, and for awhile he was actually calm and quiet.  
  
"So what is Professor Lovelace like?" I asked the kids, desperately wanting to fill the uncomfortable silence that had descended upon them. "Since I've been raised in the Muggle world, Professor Dumbledore didn't think that it was necessary for me to take Muggle Studies."  
  
Harry shrugged. "She's really nice. She's loads better than Professor Winterwind. She handles the Slytherins better, too. She can hex them back, for one thing, and she doesn't seem to aggravate them as much as the old professor did."  
  
"She's been trying to focus on the theme of mercy in Tolkien's novel," Hermione said.  
  
"Oh, that's strange," I said.  
  
"What's wrong, Miriel?" Harry asked.  
  
"It's just that my mother used to read the book to me. She would point out all the places where the characters were forgiven or shown mercy. She seemed to think that was the most important element of the story. She was really into that. I think that's why she had me go to a Catholic school run by the Sisters of Mercy. She wasn't religious, but the nuns were always doing kind things for people. I think my mom wanted that to rub off on me. I guess it's kind of odd that Professor Lovelace would see the novel in the same way."  
  
"Well," Hermione said thoughtfully. "The ring is destroyed in the end because Frodo shows mercy to Gollum. The hobbit feels pity for him, and lets him live. If he hadn't, Frodo would never have been able to destroy the ring on his own. I think Tolkien wanted to demonstrate that mercy is stronger than anything. That's what I wrote in my paper."  
  
"The Slytherins think it's a load of rubbish, of course," Harry said.  
  
"Maybe they don't," I said. "Maybe they just have to pretend to. Maybe deep inside, it will really influence them, and later on in their lives they'll remember the message and they'll act on it."  
  
"Oh, right." Harry said sarcastically. "I can already tell the novel is bringing about deep spiritual changes in Crabbe and Goyle." 

"I know somebody named Crabbe and Goyle," Draco said. "Are you talking about their daddies?"  
  
"Not everything is black and white, Harry," I said. I wanted to tell him about Draco's good side, but unfortunately, the silencing spell was still going strong. Strangely enough, it seemed to kick in even stronger when I was around Harry.  
  
"Miriel's right," Hermione said. "You and Ron really need to realize that there are different sides to every story."  
  
"Speaking of Ron, is there any particular reason he didn't come here today with you guys?" I asked.  
  
Hermione looked uncomfortable. "He, um, doesn't trust the Malfoys very much. He also doesn't feel very comfortable around wealthy people. He's very sensitive that way. He couldn't afford any decent robes this year, and I think he feels embarassed about it."  
  
Normally, I would have felt bad about that, but Ron had annoyed me so much that I was just relieved that he hadn't come.  
  
"Ders a owl tryin' te get in," Draco said, his mouth full of cookie.  
  
An owl pecked on one of the high windows, and I had to stand up on a chair to let it in. My order from Gilderoy Lockhart had arrived. I gave the bird an owl-treat, and restored the tiny crate to its original size. To my astonishment, it was absolutely huge! The two kids helped me to pry the lid off.  
  
"What did I get? Is it a present for me?" Draco danced around in excitement.  
  
"Gilderoy Lockhart sent me a bunch of free stuff," I told him. He sent me shampoos, conditioners, exfoliating body washes, body creams and foaming bath potions, all in matching, purple bottles with his signature printed across them in shimmering pink. He had also included a glossy autographed photograph of himself, a copy of his autobiography "Magical Me," and his latest publication, a book entitled, "Bathing With Bewitching Beauties." I had to laugh at the look of disappointment on Draco's face as he pawed through all the bottles, no doubt looking for something more interesting.  
  
"Ugh! In his dreams!" Harry said when I showed him the title of the book. "What beauties would want to bath with _him_?"  
  
I read the enclosed letter, which was beautifully written on lavender parchment. "He wants to meet me," I said. "He read about me and saw my photo in the Daily Prophet. He wants me to be a spokeswitch for his new line of hair care potions for witches with ultra-long hair. He says we can make a fortune."  
  
"That stupid git just thinks that since you come from a famous family, that he can make money off you," Harry told me angrily. "He's a fraud. He would have left Ginny to die in the chamber of secrets. He tried to obliviate me and Ron, and accidentally obliviated himself. You can't trust him."  
  
"I've been using his new anti-frizz potion on my hair," Hermione told me. "And it's great. It's a lot better than Sleekeazy's Hair Potion. It lasts longer, and it smells like pumpkin tarts."  
  
"I can't believe you!" Harry glared at her as though he had just been betrayed.  
  
"I can't use all this stuff," I told Hermione. "Why don't you take some? Harry, there must be some kind of potion here that could slick your hair down..." I stopped at the look on Harry's face.  
  
"No thanks," Harry said, glowering. "I don't want to end up smelling like some kind of dessert. I'd rather have messy hair the rest of my life that use anything that idiot would come up with."  
  
"Harry likes having messy hair." Hermione grinned. "He thinks it gives him the fresh-off-the-broomstick look."  
  
This just seemed to make Harry angrier. He looked at Hermione as though he had never seen her before. "You're acting like a silly git- like Parvati." He spat this out as though it was a curse. With that, he slung his book satchel over his shoulder and left my quarters.  
  
"What does that mean?" I asked Hermione, a little puzzled over Harry's moodiness. I'd finally gotten Harry to trust me enough to talk to me, and now he was being difficult.  
  
"He's just not used to being around me and other girls, I suppose," She told me. "I don't really have any girl friends. I mostly spend my time with Ron and Harry. I find most of the girls in my year rather silly, actually. Harry's been really angry lately. Sirius was the closest thing Harry's ever had to a father. Losing him was really hard on him. I hate to think what Harry would do if he lost anyone else close to him."  
  
We talked about a lot of different things, especially books, hair and men. She had recently broken up with Ron. It was so nice to finally have a friend to talk to. We really did have a lot in common. I realized after awhile that when she acted like a 'know-it-all,' it tended to be because she was feeling a bit insecure. It had been really hard for her to leave her parents and the Muggle world behind to come to school here, especially when she learned that some wizards considered Muggleborns to be inferior.  
  
"Draco, would you be good for Twinky if I walked Hermione to dinner at the Great Hall?" I asked. The little boy had refused to take a nap after our long day of gardening, and now he was so tuckered out he looked like he was about to fall asleep on the couch.  
  
"Maybe," He murmured.  
  
"That's good enough for me," I told Hermione.  
  
When we entered the Great Hall, the noise of the students chattering was deafening. Glancing up toward the head table where the teachers sat, I noticed that Professor Snape's chair was empty. Professor Dumbledore looked grim, and I could tell he was about to make an announcement. The students were definitely excited about something. Everyone at the Gryffindor table was talking, gathered together around issues of the daily prophet. Ron had a triumphant, gloating smile on his face. Harry looked profoundly shocked. When they saw me with Hermione, the Gryffindors all stared at me.   
  
"What is it?" I asked. I looked at the front of the paper that lied open on the table. To my surprise, there was a photograph of Malfoy Manor. For a split second, I thought that there was a fireworks display above the castle. Something green and glittering exploded into the night sky, but then the green sparks formed into the shape of a skull, with a serpent protruding from its mouth like a tongue. As I watched the photograph, the skull rose higher and higher, blazing in a haze of greenish smoke, until the white stone of the castle was illuminated with an eerie, green light.  
  
"It's the Dark mark," Hermione whispered.

* * *

Many thanks to all my reviewers!  
  
Ravens Dragon Wing: Thank you so much for reading my story! No, I'm not on vacation (I wish I was!) I'm just in the middle of a huge 70 page paper for school and a website. UGH! Luckily, I'll be done in just a week or two. Believe me, writing Harry Potter stories is much more entertaining.  
  
Lady Liadan: I'm glad that you found my story at the Jason Isaacs shrine. Thanks for reading it, and for your great review. I've tried to make the Malfoys believable, keeping them in character, and yet showing different facets of them. I've also tried to be a bit unexpected, since I got tired of reading the same old stuff in fan fiction stories. I like your story a lot, and how Lucius uses a scrying mirror. I hope nobody ever spies on me like that! (HA!)  
  
Escaped: Thank you for another inspiring review. What would I do without you? I think that Draco, like lots of little kids, projects his own feelings onto his pet. I do forgive you for blowing raspberries at my character, but you know, unrequited crushes can be a torturous kind of thing. And Snape can be difficult. I am looking forward to reading what happens to Rose next in her twisted love life!  
  
Rycca Wolfbane: Okay, smarty pants, just because you know who Professor Lovelace is, doesn't mean you can ruin it for everybody else (haha!) Jurassic Park was a very cool story, and I'm sure the book was way more interesting than the movie. Unfortunately, I have no idea what an HP RP is.  
  
Shadowstar21: Thank you so much for reading my story and reviewing. I'm glad you think the story gets better and better. I'm terribly insecure, and I worry about the opposite happening.  
  
Arsinoe de Blassenville: Thank you for reviewing! If you think you'd like to babysit little Draco, you could babysit my nephew, and it would be just like it is in the story! His toys are everywhere, he rolls around in dirt and won't take a bath, and he keeps trying to boss me around. HA! I'm trying to teach him to like science-fiction and fantasy. I'm glad you like the mirror idea- I think that Hogwarts must be a very mysterious place, with all kinds of magical stuff going on that nobody knows about. 


	21. Chapter TwentyOne

Author's Note: Whew! This chapter was intense. I made myself cry. I hope it's not melodramatic- it's hard writing about such intense emotions without going overboard. I've put a lot of thought into how someone would feel in Miriel's situation, so I hope it's realistic.

* * *

Chapter Twenty-One 

"That means that 'Dear Uncle Lucius' finally got what he deserved," Ron told me nastily. "The Ministry of Magic found the Malfoys' bodies in their castle."  
  
"Ronald!" Hermione said in exasperation. Her brown eyes were filled with worry, and she watched me in concern. I had told her how I felt about my uncle, and how lately he had been kind to me, in his own way.  
  
I felt the sudden urge to slap that gloating smile off of the redhead's face, but as I took in what he had said, I heard a roaring sound. I felt the blood surge in my ears, and for a moment I couldn't hear anything. My face and my hands felt numb. I swayed, and someone pushed me down into a chair.  
  
"Miriel, are you alright?" Hermione's voice was dim, as if she was speaking from a great distance.  
  
All the kids chattered around me, and I heard one of them say, "I think she's gonna pass out!"  
  
I covered my face with my hands. "But he said he was leaving the Manor," I wailed. All the shock and grief I had felt at losing my mother was torn open again, only this time it was worse. It was like a terrible, black hole forming in my chest, and a dark shadow of fury shifted in the back of my mind.  
  
"It's too bad Draco hadn't been there as well," Ron said, his voice sharp with spite. "Then we would have been rid of-"  
  
"Shut up! Just shut the hell up!" I found myself standing, and my wand was in my hand. The adamant sparkled and glowed, it drew all the light in the Great Hall to itself until it dazzled like blue-white lightning and the air around us grew black and icy. All of my grief and rage raced through my arm into that wand.  
  
"Expelliarmus!" I heard Harry yell, but nothing happened. The wand remained in my hand, and it grew brighter and brighter. I heard several screams, and some of the younger girls at the Gryffindor table began crying.  
  
Suddenly Ron's horrified face froze in front of me. All movement stopped, and a thick silence covered the room. I could hear my ragged breath, and my pulse throbbed loudly in my ears. It was as if time itself had stopped.  
  
Dumbledore stood to the right of me, behind the frozen figures of the students. He was no longer a kind, eccentric old man. The look on his face was fierce, and his body burned with a white radiance. In a flash I realized that I was seeing the true Dumbledore. His wand was pointed directly at me. "Finite maledictum!"  
  
But the current of magic and rage had gathered a life of its own. The light from my wand pulsed, and actually seemed to beat against Professor Dumbledore's spell, pushing it away. It surged forward, toward Ron Weasley.  
  
"Adverso flumine magica!" The wizard's deep voice echoed throughout the hall. Light exploded behind my eyelids, and lightning raced down my bones. It was excruciatingly painful, and it was a relief when I blacked out.

* * *

I dreamed about my mother. She was stroking my hair and calling me her baby. I even smelled the sweet, expensive perfume she liked so much. It was called 'Amarige,' and she always got it at an expensive gift shop on Royal Street in New Orleans.  
  
I woke up slowly and dimly. Peeping through my lashes, I realized that I was once again in the infirmary. Stripes of light fell in through the windows. It must have been morning! I shut my eyes again, not wanting to face real life. Every muscle in my body ached. I felt worse, much worse, than when the kids had hexed me on the train. Like before, I awoke to hear voices, only this time, they were talking about me.  
  
"Albus, this is cruel," Professor Lovelace said. "I can't go on like this, and she shouldn't have to, either. Tell her the truth about me now, or I will."  
  
"My dear," Professor Dumbledore started. "Please lower your voice. I'll take care of everything in time."  
  
"Don't give me that. _Give_ her that damned mirror if you have to. She'll never find it on her own. What in Merlin's name are you waiting for?" Professor Lovelace's voice rose sharply in anger. "I don't even care about Lucius anymore. Just stop this charade."  
  
Professor Dumbledore's voice faded off. I assumed he had escorted the other teacher out of the room since I couldn't hear them anymore. When I opened my eyes again, he was sitting at the bedside.  
  
"Professor? What happened?" I asked.  
  
"I prevented you from doing a terrible thing," The headmaster told me, his face exhausted and grim. He looked like he hadn't slept all night. "Just barely. You were about to curse Ronald Weasley. What were you thinking, my dear? I would hate to see you end up in Azkaban."  
  
"I didn't mean to," I said, horrified and confused. "Everything happened so fast." I closed my eyes as the memories of what had happened rushed back to me. "The Dark Lord killed my uncle, and Ron was happy about it." Tears flooded my eyes. "I just lost it."  
  
"Yes, the students have already spoken to me. And Molly Weasley." Professor Dumbledore rolled his eyes. "But we won't go into _that_ just now. I can only assume that you were lashing out in grief. My dear, the amount of power you demonstrated last night was frightening. Harry couldn't stop you with his disarming spell. I am considered one of the more powerful wizards, and even I could not immediately restrain you. Soon it will be all over the wizarding world."  
  
I groaned. "Everyone at Hogwarts is going to think that I'm horrible." If anybody suspected me of being evil because of my uncle, I had just given them proof. Harry and Hermione probably hated me by now.  
  
"Things are not always what they appear to be here in the wizarding world," A woman's voice said. "And anyone who doesn't take that into consideration is a fool." It was Professor Lovelace, who had obviously returned to the infirmary. She stopped next to Professor Dumbledore and glared down at him as if daring him to throw her out again.  
  
Professor Dumbledore sighed as if exasperated, but he stood up to let her have his chair.  
  
"What do you mean?" I asked the witch, as she sat down. Obviously I was going to get more information out of her than the headmaster. She looked like she was dying to tell me something.  
  
"Your uncle is nothing if not resourceful," She said. "The Dark Lord does not call him 'Slippery Lucius' for nothing. Lucius told you that he intended to leave Malfoy Manor immediately. He dumped Draco off and left Hogwarts so quickly that he didn't even have time to see you. That hardly sounds like a man who is going to lounge around his castle, waiting for the Dark Lord to knock on his door. Severus talked with him before he was summoned to Voldemort's meeting..."  
  
"Severus!" I struggled to sit up. "Where is he? Is he okay?"  
  
"He has not returned yet," The witch said. "We'll know more when he does. I am trying to tell you that there is no way that Lucius would have allowed the Dark Lord to kill him and Narcissa. He is a survivor. He will sacrifice anything, or anyone to survive." She said this last sentence with a little bitterness.  
  
"But Ron said that the Ministry of Magic found their bodies!" I said, holding back the tears that stung my eyes.  
  
"There are many spells and potions that can be used to change another person's appearance. Those bodies that the Ministry found could very well have been Muggles, or house elves, enchanted to look like the Malfoys. I know about this from personal experience, Miriel. It's entirely possible." Professor Lovelace gazed at me intensely, as if she wanted to tell me more. There was something in her expression that, again, seemed familiar.  
  
"Who are you?" I whispered.  
  
Professor Lovelace leaned forward and touched my hand. "This is going to be quite a shock for you," She said gently. Then her hand reached up to smooth my hair, and I smelled it, the faint, sweet perfume on her wrist.  
  
I recoiled in shock, and knocked her hand away. "Who are you? Why are you wearing my mother's perfume?" Perhaps I had not been dreaming this morning.  
  
"Baby, I-"The witch began.  
  
"Don't call me that! My Mama calls me that!" I shook violently. I felt like I must be losing my mind. "Why are you doing this?" I looked at Professor Dumbledore, and his face was stricken with deep concern.  
  
"There is no easy way to say this," The headmaster said. "Please try to calm yourself, Miriel, and listen to me."  
  
"Get away from me!" I screamed at the witch. "Get out of my sight!" Behind me I heard the window panes shattering and the mirrors over the hospital sinks cracking. Broken glass fell onto the floor.  
  
Professor Lovelace caught her breath, and left, her face crumbling like she was about to cry. Instantly Madam Pomfrey was at my side. She gave me a vial of some kind of potion to drink, but I flung it against the wall. The nurse then took out her wand and cast a tranquilizing spell on me. Almost instantly, heavy warmth spread throughout my body, and I felt myself calm down.  
  
"What haven't you been telling me?" I asked professor Dumbledore. "Why does that woman act like she knows me?"  
  
Dumbledore held my hand, and after a few moments, began speaking. "About a year ago, your mother was in her shop, cleaning up after a busy day. There was a particularly large mirror towards the back wall, I believe."  
  
I nodded. I remembered it.  
  
"She was quite shocked when she looked up to see an image of you in the mirror," The headmaster continued.  
  
"Me?" I frowned in puzzlement.  
  
The wizard nodded solemnly. "Apparently, you found the Mirror of Emit, and used it to warn her of her boyfriend's intentions to dispose of her. She encouraged you to tell her every detail of the incident, and of what happened to you once Lucius found you. You told her about your life here at Hogwarts."  
  
"But Professor," I told him. "That didn't happen."  
  
"Ah, Miriel. You mean, it hasn't happened for you _yet_. Have you not been trying to find the mirror since you arrived? Have you not been wanting to see your mother again?"  
  
A little embarrassed, I nodded.  
  
"Your mother, being the wise woman that she is, did everything possible to ensure that what you had told her came to pass. She faked her own death in the matter that you described to her, and she stayed safely out of your way until she knew you were safe at Hogwarts."  
  
"Professor, that's crazy," I told him. "My mother wouldn't just abandon me like that, letting me think she was dead. She would have told me something."  
  
"Let me ask you this, Miriel," The headmaster said. "What if she had told you the truth of what had happened? When she talked with you in the mirror, she discovered that Lucius had still been hunting her after all those years. Once Lucius found you, he would have known that your mother still lived, even if you had attempted to lie about it. He would have seen it in your mind, or used veriteserum. Would he have so generously taken you under his wing if you had not been an orphan? Or would he have killed you, or attempted to use you against her? It was safer for you believing that she had died. Playing around with time is very dangerous. Any change she would have made to the information you had given her could have brought about unpredictable events. She wanted to make sure you would end up safe at Hogwarts, as when she saw the future you in the mirror."  
  
"You're saying that my mother is alive?" I couldn't believe it. I would have thought that this was some kind of cruel joke, or that Professor Dumbledore was insane, if it had not been for his sober, honest eyes, and his comforting hand on mine.  
  
"In the mirror you told her the date you had arrived here at Hogwarts," He said. "She arrived here shortly after you did. I was quite surprised, let me tell you. I wasn't sure what to do with her. Having her back again in the wizarding world would have drawn a huge amount of attention, especially from the press. Lucius would again have been after her, and her life would have been in danger."  
  
"But you didn't tell me anything?" I still found the entire story unbelievable.  
  
"You have been in constant contact with Lucius, and he has amazing powers of legilimency," The wizard told me. "He would have been able to see into your mind, and learn of your mother's existence. More importantly, he might have informed the Dark Lord. Your mother wanted to tell you about her arrival immediately, but I insisted it was safer this way. Your mother is doing very important work with Severus that the Dark Lord must not catch even a hint about. The two believe that they can create mirrors which repel the Unforgivable curses. She has also been working for our order, the Order of the Phoenix, which has been planning strategies against Voldemort."  
  
"All of this is really hard to take in," I told him. "My mother has been here? At Hogwarts?" I suddenly knew what he was going to say before he said it.  
  
"She took the position of our Muggle Studies teacher," The headmaster said.  
  
It was impossible to sort out my feelings right then. I felt an overwhelming mixture of shock, happiness, anger and confusion. I had spent a year grieving her death, and now I couldn't believe that she was really here, had been here all this time. I knew I was probably going to be furious with Professor Dumbledore later, but right now I pushed that thought aside.  
  
"I think your mother very much wants to see you," He told me gently.  
  
When he guided Professor Lovelace back into the room, it was clear that she had been crying. The woman took a deep breath. Taking out her wand, she performed the spell to restore her original appearance. Her image wavered in front of me, and suddenly my mother stood there, with her reddish-brown hair curling around her pretty face.  
  
"Mama?" I trembled so violently, I could barely get the word out.  
  
She rushed forward to hold me, and I sobbed against her shoulder. I don't know who cried more, but I couldn't seem to stop clinging to her, and touching her face. She was alive, and karl hadn't killed her. For a brief, strange moment, I thought of my favorite scene from Tolkien's book, "The Return of the King," that I had begged my mother to read to me over and over as a child until I had memorized it. In it, Sam wakes up and discovers that Gandalf is really alive, even though the fellowship thought he had been killed by the evil Balrog. Sam says, "I thought you were dead! But then I thought I was dead myself. Is everything sad going to come untrue?"

* * *

Thanks to all you great reviewers out there!  
  
Thank you, Kaylyn, ice-princess 42, and shadowstar21. I love you guys. (sniff!)  
  
Rycca Wolfbane: Actually, I could never get into "The Neverending Story" either. My younger sister forced me to watch the movie about a kazillion times. The scene in the movie where Harry rides the Hippogriff actually reminds me of Bastian riding the luck dragon. HA! The Hitchhiker's Guide is cool. Hey, I want to go to Busch gardens. I am in desperate need of a vacation. Right now the only excitement I get is going down to hang out at "Walmart."  
  
Escaped: Breath, Escaped, breath. I hope that this chapter didn't freak you out too bad about Lucius. I think I freaked myself out! Don't worry, though, you will see Lucius again soon. You know I can't kill off the poor guy. He's just too sexy. Both of us seem to have some serious anti-Ron issues. The scene where Miriel is about to curse Ron was inspired by a book called, "A wizard of Earthsea," by Ursula K. LeGuin. Have you read it? Yes, poor Harry is about to have a nervous breakdown or something. Actually, the dean changed her mind about the due date on my project. It's now due in December! Yikes! These people are driving me crazy. To be fair, though, it turned into the paper from hell because I am a terrible procrastinator. I was anxious about the thing, and so kept putting it off. Thank you so much for your detailed reviews. I really appreciate them.  
  
Kiwiblue: Wow- you must be psychic or something. How did you know that Lovelace was Miriel's mother? Yes, I'm pretty sure that Dumbly turned Draco into a kid on purpose so he wouldn't have to become a Death Eater when he turned 17. No, the other students are still kids. Poor Neville- that's not really fair, is it? Yes, I love New Orleans too.  
  
MerryDay: Well, Poor Snape does need some romance in his life, but I'm not sure it's going to come from Miriel. I'm sorry, but I cannot ruin the story for you by telling you the details. I'm going to be like my hero, JK Rowling, and be secretive... Thank you so much for reading my story.  
  
Arsinoe de Blassenville: Yes, it is fun to write about little Draco. It will be kind of sad when he turns back to a teen again, but it has to be done! Thank you for your reviews. 


	22. Chapter TwentyTwo

Author's Notes: Thank you so much for all your reviews. This chapter is a lot of conversation and back-story, so I hope it's not too boring. I didn't realize until after I had written it how I recorded my own struggles in dealing with people who have been unkind in my life. Hope you like it.

* * *

Chapter Twenty-Two 

"I can't believe you're really here," I said, finally able to loosen my grip on my mother enough to look at her. I glanced around the infirmary, but Professor Dumbledore had quietly left.

"The headmaster is probably talking with Cornelius Fudge," My mother told me. "After your incident with Ron, Molly Weasley immediately reported you to the Ministry of Magic. Fudge has been talking to witnesses all morning. You gave everyone in the Great Hall quite a scare last night. Don't be upset if some of the students avoid you for awhile, or if you hear crazy rumors that you serve the Dark Lord."

"Oh no," I moaned. "What's going to happen? Is Mr. Fudge going to arrest me?"

"No, Professor Dumbledore assured him that it was an accident. But Fudge has to write a report, and you'll need to register your wand. I think he's more concerned about appearing to do his job more than anything. Since he's so impressed with pure bloodlines and money, he'll probably end up offering you a job with the ministry before it's all over," She said a bit sarcastically. "You are lucky that Professor Dumbledore was there to stop you. Baby, there's a reason why Mirror-Magi never perform curses or acts of violence."

"Because then the unicorns wouldn't come near us anymore?" The idea was a terrible one.

My mother nodded. "Your familiar would reject you. There's a magical bond between us that's taken centuries to develop. The unicorns provide us with their blood to make our mirrors, and they look to us for help and protection. When your grandfather and I were no longer in Britain, the unicorns here became prey for those involved in the Dark Arts, even for the Dark Lord.

Baby, unicorns aren't just magical animals. There have always been powerful myths about them in both the Muggle and the wizarding worlds. There's an ancient Jewish folklore about unicorns. When Adam and Eve were expelled from the Garden of Eden, the unicorn was given a choice- he could stay in paradise or leave with them and enter the world of pain and suffering. The unicorn watched Adam and Eve as they left, then followed after them, becoming a symbol of mercy, hope and strength. For this act of compassion, the unicorn was forever blessed. Although this is a Muggle story, it illustrates how the wizarding world views unicorns, as well- as living symbols of healing and mercy. The Mirror-Magi were seen as their guardians for centuries. We were supposed to live out mercy and encourage others to do the same. I suppose that it's the closest thing to a sacred calling that exists in the wizarding world."

Just the thought of the foal turning away from me as she had from my uncle and Professor Snape made tears come to my eyes. It would have _felt_ like being evicted from paradise. "I didn't realize that I was about to curse Ron. I really hated him for that moment. I felt so lost when you died. Your funeral was at St. Elizabeth's, in the chapel... some of the nuns from school were there and everything." I stopped, too choked up to continue.

"I am so sorry that I had to put you through that," My mother said. "Deceiving you and knowing what it would do to you was the hardest thing I've ever done. The only thing that drove me was the desire to keep you safe, and even then I kept questioning myself."

"But how did you do it?" I asked. "The coroner's report said you had died of a drug overdose. I thought that Karl had murdered you. You never had anything to do with drugs until he showed up."

My mother sighed. "Our conversation in the mirror broke through much of my denial about Karl. Since Sr. Angela works with homeless people at the shelter, she knows the streets of New Orleans better than anyone. I asked her to investigate a little for me. She discovered that Karl had quite a reputation he had hidden from me. He had a few other 'businesses' on the side, including drugs and prostitution. Some of his girls who had displeased him had died from drug overdoses, but of course, the police could never prove anything. He had become increasingly violent and controlling of our business, and after my discussion with you, I realized that I was soon to be his next victim. Soon he was trying to push more and more drugs on me. In the end, Sr. Angela helped me to fake my own death."

"Sr. Angela?" My mouth fell open. I suddenly recalled that she and my mother had spent a lot of time together before my mother's 'death.' An image of the short, stocky nun with white hair came to mind. She was ruthlessly practical, and the funniest person I had ever met. She usually had everyone around her laughing hysterically. It was hard to imagine her doing anything that grim. "What could _she_ have done?"

"She is a Muggleborn witch. She turned her back on the wizarding world years ago, the first time that the Dark Lord came to power. She found the wizarding world to be cold to Muggleborns in many ways. At the homeless shelter that she ran, a poor girl had died of a drug overdose, and Sr. Angela helped me to obtain the potion that would transform her body into mine."

I covered my mouth in shock. Karl's confusion when my mother had 'died' must not have been an act. It must have been strange for him, to have been intending to kill my mother, only to have her die without his help.

"It wasn't too difficult to buy. It is similar to the polyjuice potion, only it works on the dead. What I did is not something I'm proud of," My mother whispered. "The girl had told the sisters at the shelter that she had no family, but that still doesn't make me feel any better about the whole thing."

"Then what did you do?" I asked.

"I obviously couldn't stay around New Orleans. Sr. Angela promised me she would look after you, and make sure that you survived financially."

I nodded. "Sister did help me. I think everybody in New Orleans owes her favors. She helped me to get a job at the Café Du Monde. She also spoke with the guy who bought your shop, so that he'd let me stay in the rooms upstairs. She gave me a lot of food at the shelter."

"Then I left for London. Hopefully, the time I spent there waiting for you to arrive at Hogwarts got my head on a bit straighter. Maybe I'll know what kind of man to trust next time," She said bitterly. "I hate that you were around him, that you were around that kind of violent behavior. I was a complete idiot to get myself trapped like that." My mother breathed deeply. "Well, Sr. Angela asked me to give you something." She held out her wand and said, "Accio tapestry!"

To my amazement, a small package flew through the doorway of the infirmary. My mother caught it, and placed it in my lap. It looked like a rolled up piece of cloth, wrapped in layers of tissue paper. I unrolled it, smoothing out the material with my hands.

"Mama, this is beautiful," I said. It was a miniature tapestry of rich colors, and highlights of gold thread glittered throughout the scene. Adam and Eve stood in the Garden of Eden, and between them stood a unicorn.

"It's a reproduction of a Swiss tapestry," My mother told me. "Sr. Angela had it in her office at the shelter for awhile. The early Christian church also used Unicorns as symbols of redemption. She really did care about you, you know. It was very difficult for her to watch you go through all that, all the while, knowing the truth."

I outlined the little unicorn with my finger. "Sr. Angela was always trying to tell me that I should forgive Karl, that I shouldn't allow him to make me a bitter, hard person. I didn't do a very good job of that, though." I thought briefly about him that night with the Dark Lord. "He was a horrible man, but I'm not sure now if he deserved to die cursed like that. He didn't actually kill you."

"Many times people who abuse others do so because they were abused themselves," My mother said. "It's easy for me to hate Lucius Malfoy, but I don't know what formed him to be the way he is now. I don't know what kind of life, what kind of childhood Karl may have had. I don't know what makes a person do terrible things. Even Tom Riddle was driven by some kind of terrible pain to become the creature he is now. I can only hope not to judge, and perhaps forgive in time. Not because they deserve it, but because it would harm me if I didn't."

I thought about the hatred I had felt right before I attempted to curse Ron. It still frightened me to think what I had been capable of at that moment. Could I ever have become like the Dark Lord?

A sickening thought occurred to me. "Mama, what if the Dark Lord read Karl's mind? What if he knows that you're still alive?"

"Severus told me that the Dark Lord began cursing Karl immediately after Lucius brought him to Stonehenge," My mother said. "He believes that there wasn't time for the Dark Lord to discern the truth from Karl. If the Dark Lord had suspected something, I'm sure he would have questioned Karl further before killing him. I will always be in debt to Severus for the way that he helped you to survive that night."

"Severus!" I said. "He hasn't come back from being summoned by the Dark Lord."

My mother wrung her hands. "I've been worried sick about him all night. I wonder if Voldemort became angry over the potions 'accident,' when his most promising future Death Eaters had been turned into children. Professor Dumbledore asks too much from Severus, sometimes. The rest of the Order was only too willing to have Severus take that risk. Especially Moody, that harsh, holier-than-thou-"She sighed. "I'm sorry, Baby. Some members of the Order of the Phoenix are excellent Aurors, but they need to take a class in personality."

She told me how the members of the Order had reacted to her arrival. Alastor Moody had been reluctant to trust her, because of her past relationship with a Death Eater, and because her daughter was related to Lucius Malfoy. He had even made her take a magical test to prove her identity. Molly Weasley had harped on about how I had treated poor Harry. "And then, of course," she said, rolling her eyes. "There's Remus and Severus."

"What about them?" I had heard of Remus Lupin from Draco, and how he had been the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor for awhile.

"They're acting like sixteen year-olds. I'm having Hogwarts flashbacks. Remus has expressed a little interest in me, and now Severus is acting like an obnoxious, jealous, possessive ass! They weren't exactly best friends before, but now their bickering is getting on everyone's nerves. Including mine."

"Severus is jealous of you?" I asked.

My mother smiled in sympathy at the look of dismay on my face. "I think Severus would be jealous of Minnie Mouse if Remus or any of the Marauders were interested in her. Baby, you've always gotten crushes on your teachers. Severus is much too old for you. And I don't mean biologically, but emotionally. He's had a very harsh life."

"You didn't answer my question. Do you guys have a 'thing'going? "

She considered for a moment. "We are friends, of a sort. We have been spending a lot of time together, working on the project for the Order of The Phoenix. Our relationship could be more, but, well, I'm afraid that Severus has a lot of...'issues."

"Tell me about it," I muttered, still thinking of the incident in the dungeons.

"His father was so abusive he made Karl look like Gandhi. I think that both you and Severus may have something in common."

"What's that?" I asked.

"I think that both of you have been searching for a father, emotionally that is. Severus looked to Tom Riddle to fill a void in his life. He wanted guidance, attention, a purpose. He wanted respect for his intelligence and talents, which his father never gave him. By the time that Severus was your age, he was already a Death Eater and he had murdered and tortured Muggles. He feels so much shame about the past things he's done for the Dark Lord, that I don't think he sees himself as loveable. I think that deep inside, he grieves that he was never allowed to be innocent. He doesn't believe that he deserves forgiveness or love. He doesn't understand that the nature of mercy is that it is undeserved."

"That's so sad," I said.

"I think he eventually found his father figure in Professor Dumbledore. The headmaster has been the closest thing he's had to one, which is why I get so upset when I feel that Dumbledore asks too much from him."

At that moment I wanted Severus to be happy more than anything, even if it wasn't with me. I wanted my mother to be happy, too. "I think you should pick Severus," I murmured, becoming a bit sleepy. "Remus Lupin is a werewolf, you know. I don't know if you'd be up for _that_."

My mother laughed at that.

"It's all just so confusing," I finally told her, my voice fading with tiredness. "Did you really die, but then I changed things by contacting you in the Mirror of Emit? But what if I don't contact you? Would you not really be here? Would you disappear, and none of this would have happened?" There were so many questions that I wanted to ask, so many things I wanted to talk about, but to my frustration, I felt my eyelids grow heavy.

"I don't think that anyone really understands time. Not even your grandfather, and he considered himself an expert. But everything is alright. You are exhausted," She said, smoothing my hair with her hand. "When Professor Dumbledore stopped your curse from harming Ron, some of it back lashed onto you."

"Is that why I feel like I've been run over by the Hogwart's Express?" I muttered. I suddenly thought of something. "Oh no!"

"What is it?" My mother asked, concerned.

"It's Draco! He's alone in my quarters. He probably thinks I've abandoned him. Well, he's with Twinky, but she's not a very good nanny." I groaned. "He's probably running around the dungeons by now, and my quarters are probably a wreck."

"The headmaster let Hermione stay with your little _fiance_ last night," My mother told me, rolling her eyes at her words. "As capable as Twinky is, Dumbledore believes that children need constant human contact."

I sighed with relief. Thank God it was the weekend. Maybe she would keep an eye on him until I recovered. "Hermione doesn't hate me? She was Ron's girlfriend, you know."

"Of course she doesn't! She was there, she knows what Ron was like. She knows you're not an evil person. The Weasleys have always been rather mouthy. You were under a great strain, and I don't want you worrying about that right now. I want you to rest." My mother's image wavered once again, and Professor Lovelace was in her place. "I'll come and check up on you later."

I must have slept the rest of the day. I vaguely remembered hearing Poppy shooing away the Ministry of Magic, and I think he finally left.

When I walked into my quarters later that evening, I was pleasantly surprised. The entire place was neat. Most of the toys were out of sight. I found a very clean and freshly scrubbed Draco sitting at his table, scribbling in an enchanted coloring book.

"There you are! You said you were coming back, but you didn't," He said. "That bossy lady told me that you had a magical accident. There sure are a lot of those going on around here."

I kissed his cheek. As much as I liked the little Draco, I found myself missing the teenaged version terribly. I realized that it was going to be very difficult for him after the Dark Lord had attempted to kill his parents. He wasn't going to be the 'crown prince' of Slytherin, anymore, for one thing. I wondered how he would change, without the constant pressure on him to be hostile to Gryffindors and 'Mudbloods."

"Do you smell," I sniffed his hair. "Like chocolate?"

"It's Gilderoy Lockhart's shampoo for little witches and wizards," Hermione said, walking in from the bathroom. "It smells like chocolate frogs. He included a bottle of it in that box he sent you."

"Oh, yeah," I said gloomily. I had forgotten about him. "There's no way he's going to want me to be his spokeswitch now. It's probably all over the Daily Prophet by now, that I almost cursed Ron. Hermione, I feel terrible about last night. I'm so sorry."

"Sometimes I've been so mad at Ron, I've wanted to curse him myself," she said with a small smile. "He has been getting really obnoxious lately."

"What about Harry?" I asked her.

"Professor Dumbledore explained everything to us," The girl told me. "Believe it or not, Harry understands a lot of what you feel. He's been feeling a lot of grief and rage since Sirius died. But you have to understand, Miriel, Ron has been his best friend since he arrived here at Hogwarts. Harry doesn't want Ron to be mad at him. I don't think it's likely that Harry will be spending a lot of time with you now. I hope you understand."

"What about you?" I asked her. "Won't they be mad at you if you're my friend?" In a very short time, I had grown to like Hermione very much.

The girl shrugged. "I'm not going to get all worked up about it," she said. "We haven't really been close for some time now. I think in a way, I've outgrown them. Ron hasn't been very happy with me since I broke up with him. Harry has become more distant and hard to talk to since last year. I was always the responsible one. I was always the one that grounded them, that thought things through for them. But I guess that's getting old. I feel, well, that I've been babysitting them."

"Speaking of babysitting, thank you so much for looking after Draco. I know that he's been pretty horrible to you in the past," I said, recalling the incident on the Hogwart's Express. "How did you get him to behave so well?"

"Being bossy is a gift, I guess," Hermione said. "By the way, while you were in the hospital wing, you've been getting mirror-calls." She picked up a small, velvet bag from one of the shelves and pulled out the small, square mirror that my uncle had given me. "It's been glowing and chiming all day."

I caught my breath. "Did you answer it?" I asked.

She shook her head. "I tried, but I think it's enchanted so that only the person that's being called can answer. Sirius gave a mirror like this to Harry before he died, so Harry never got a chance to use it."

"Oh my God. Hermione, my uncle Lucius gave that mirror to me. What if he's trying to get a hold of me, to tell me that he's not dead?" For a moment I felt a rush of happiness, but then panic began to rise up in my throat. "I can't see him again."

"What do you mean?"

"This morning, Dumbledore and Professor Lovelace told me a little about the Order of The Phoenix, and um, other stuff that my uncle shouldn't know about. Can wizards perform legilimency through mirrors?"

"No," Hermione told me. "They have to be in your presence, and have eye contact. However, I've read in 'Mysterious, Malignant, Magical Mirrors, A History of the Use of Mirrors In the Dark Arts,' that communication mirrors can be enchanted to tell if a person is lying."

"You read my uncle's book?" I asked her, surprised.

"Madam Pince got a copy for the library's restricted section," She said. "Mr. Malfoy does know an awful lot about mirrors."

It was later that night, after Hermione had gone back to Gryffindor Tower and Draco had gone to bed, that the small mirror began glowing and chiming. My heart raced. I curled up on the couch, watching it, and wondered what I should do. I wanted to speak to my uncle, but I knew he'd question me about the Mirror of Emit, and if I had found it. He'd probably put even more pressure on me since his circumstances had changed. I didn't want to lie to him. I didn't want him to find out that my mother was living, or was working for the Order of The Phoenix. What if he had enchanted the mirror as Hermione had suggested? I would only make him angry if I lied, which was the one thing that I definitely did not want to do.

The mirror would not stop chiming. I wasn't certain if it was my imagination, but the sound actually seemed to grow louder and more insistent after a time. I became a nervous wreck. Finally, I made a decision. Sliding the mirror back into its velvet bag, I placed it on the floor. Reaching for one of my boots, I slammed the heel down onto the bag. I heard the shatter of glass, and then there was silence.

* * *

Many thanks to my reviewers!!! 

Ice-Princess42: Don't worry, Princess, Draco will be a teen again soon. Yeah, I miss him too.

Escaped: I'm sorry, I didn't mean to toy with your emotions (okay, I'm lying now, evil cackle) why are you reading this chapter, young lady? Why aren't you working on your **NEW COOL STORY THAT EVERYBODY NEEDS TO LOOK UP AND READ?!?** (That was a free advertisement for you, by the way) ;-)

Merryday: No, I'm sorry, I haven't gotten into anime. I live right now in the wild boonies of Arkansas, and I don't think they have any access to anime. I haven't read anything by Garth Nix, either. Thank you so much for your suggestions.

Kiwiblue: Hey, if you're psychic, can you please tell me when am I going to marry Jason Isaacs (or Ralph Fiennes, or Alan Rickman, I'm not picky!) Yes, poor Karl did get cursed to death by Voldie. He's symbolic of all the creepy men I've known in my life. HA! I hope that I answered some of your questions in this chapter.

Kamalakali: Thank you so much for reading and reviewing my story. Don't fret, Draco snogging will come up again.

Shadowstar21: You are just so sweet.

Rycca Wolfbane: I hope that my explanations about Karl in this chapter make sense. I will be so happy when POA comes out on DVD and then I, too, can become an obsessed fruitcake. (Uh, that didn't come out quite right, did it?) Anyway, have you heard that Ralph Fiennes signed up to be Voldemort in the Goblet of Fire movie? Sigh. My future husband is going to play voldie. I'm so proud...

Arsinoe de Blassenville: Thank you for your review! Yes, it was tempting to curse Ron into oblivion, but I knew that poor Miriel would end up in Azkaban or something. Don't worry, though, sooner or later, he will- oops, I almost gave it away! I'm glad that you think the rationale behind keeping her mom a secret is sound, I was worried that it wouldn't really sound plausible.


	23. Author's Note

Author's Note:

This is just to reassure you guys that I haven't forgotten about my story! Sorry it's taking me so long to update. I have every intention of finishing it. I've been working on the latest chapter, but I have been having some medical problems lately. I've been having some headaches, and I have to have some tests done (like an MRI and stuff like that! Ugh!) Being the poor college student that I am, I don't have health insurance. Trying to get on Medicaid in Arkansas has been a nightmare (it's a poor state, evidently, and it can't afford to help people out) and I've been kind of stressed out and distracted. Thank you for being patient, and thanks again for reading my story, Lady Jenilyn

P.S. I posted some links on my bio that are related to my story, just in case you're interested. :-) You can actually order New Orleans coffee from the Cafe du Monde web site. Yum!

* * *


	24. Chapter TwentyThree

Author's Note: Thank you so much for your patience. I'm so sorry for making people wait so long for an update. It's been a stressful month or so. I had to have a few awful medical tests, and I'm just now able to sit at my computer for long periods of time without my back hurting from the spinal tap. And I don't have a brain tumor or any other nasty problems. Yaay! My headaches are also much better. Many thanks to Escaped, Arsinoe de Blassenville, Kiwiblue and Moonjasmine for your concern. Thanks to all my wonderful reviewers who have been waiting so patiently.

* * *

Chapter Twenty-Three 

"Bad business, Minerva," Cornelius Fudge said in rather clipped tones, his face creased with weariness and concern. "Very bad." His gray hair was rumpled, but his tweed suit looked just as neat as it always did. The man set down his cup of tea on the office table, while Professor McGonagall hovered over us. Although she had been rather chilly with me since the entire incident at the Great Hall, I had the definite impression now that she was being protective. She had certainly been flustered at Fudge's appearance at the school while Professor Dumbledore was attending a 'very important meeting."

I suspected, of course, that it was a meeting of the Order of the Phoenix, since my mother had had a substitute teaching her Muggle Studies class that morning. I was so happy to have my mother back, that everything during the first few days of her return had seemed hazy and dreamlike. I didn't even care when the other students regarded me with fear, and I easily ignored the whispered rumors in the hallways.

The stern witch crossed her arms. "Certainly you don't mean to send her to Azkaban!" Her voice trembled with shock.

"No, no, no!" The man waved his hands, and smiled at me in a kind of affectionate grimace. "We don't send first year students to Azkaban for _almost_ cursing their classmates."

I sighed deeply in relief. I had heard that Hagrid had been sent there not too long ago, and he was still so traumatized by the experience that he could never talk about it.

"Well, thank Heavens for that." The teacher sniffed indignantly. "It's not as if she's a trained witch, after all. She had no idea what she was doing." She flashed me the same worried, suspicious look that she had been since the incident. I couldn't help but wonder if she believed her own words.

Mr. Fudge patted my hand. "Of course, of course. I'm relieved, my dear, that you did not harm _yourself_. Magic as powerful as yours can be quite difficult to control for a young, untrained woman." His smile faltered for a moment. "Please understand, however, the school governors have been in touch. It seems they've been receiving howlers from many of the students' parents."

"Friends of the Weasleys, no doubt," Professor McGonagall said. "As much as I sympathize with Molly, at times she can be a- what's that phrase that the Weasley twins always used? A shit-stirrer. She's not thinking about how this is affecting Albus. He has plenty of other things to worry about at this moment."

There had been no word from Severus for several days, and I knew that everyone was worried about him. Without his report, the Order had no way of knowing what was happening within the Death Eaters' ranks, or what exactly had happened to my Uncle Lucius.

The Professor picked up a copy of "The Daily Prophet" from the corner of her desk and snapped the front page open. The paper had yet another article about me in it, this time accompanied by a large photo of an angry Mrs. Weasley. The woman in the photo talked heatedly, dramatically punctuating her story with large hand-waves.

Evidently the paper had ignored the fact that my father had been a Death Eater when I first arrived in the Wizarding world, probably because the Silverthorns had been such a famous and admired family. Because of Molly Weasley's demands that I be expelled from Hogwarts, however, it seemed to be all that the Prophet could report about. Letters to the editor gave suggestions on what should be done about me. Some suggested that I already served "You-Know-Who" and should be put into Azkaban to protect the lives of the other students. A few even suggested that my father's blood had tainted me with evil impulses.

"I think I liked it better when I was a celebrity," I told them sullenly. "That newspaper sure is fickle." I was really getting sick of it by now. I never wanted to look at it again, not even to order hair-care potions.

"The public is becoming hysterical," The witch said. "It's just like it was the first time that Voldemort rose to power. Now that his return is official and the Dark Mark is appearing more frequently, they'll start panicking. Soon there will be accusations flying around the Wizarding world. Wizards and witches will attempt to turn in their neighbors to the Ministry as Death Eaters..." Her voice trailed off as she remembered the past.

"Now you see why something must be done," Mr. Fudge said. "I am terribly sorry, Miriel, but I think that perhaps now would be a good time for you to leave Hogwarts. The governors are seriously considering this."

I gasped. "You're going to expel me?" I turned to gape at Professor McGonagall. "Can he do that?"

"The school governors do have that power, I'm afraid. There's no need to get upset," The man told me, with a look so sympathetic, it bordered on being insincere. "I'm sure with all that's happened to your uncle, it's probably difficult for you to focus on your studies right now as it is. And you have poor, little Draco to care for now. Being his legal guardian, now, you will have to manage the Malfoy estate and the rest of his inheritance until he comes of age."

"I can't leave!" I looked to Professor McGonagall for help. "I really wanted to come to school here, and Professor Dumbledore really wanted me here as well." Even though I hadn't been too happy with the lack of acceptance on the other students' part, I felt quite safe here under the watchful eye of Professor Dumbledore, and I knew that Draco would be safe here too. I hadn't forgotten how horrifying it had been to face the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters. What could happen to us if we didn't live at Hogwarts? Did I attract the Dark Lord's attention again when I almost cursed Ron? There was no way I was going to live in Malfoy Manor after all that had happened there.

"Really, Cornelius," The witch said in a huff. "Don't you and the governors think that this is Albus' decision to make?"

Of course, these were the same governors that let my Uncle Lucius threaten them into firing the Headmaster a few years ago. They didn't exactly sound immune from pressure.

The Minister flashed another sympathetic smile. "I was going to suggest, of course, that perhaps the Ministry might convince the governors to be a bit more lenient, if Miriel could give us important information that could help us." He said this casually, even buttering a scone while he said it, but when his eyes met mine, they were alert and eager. "It's important for you right now, Miriel, to prove where your loyalties lie."

I felt an awful, cold feeling in my stomach, as if I had just swallowed ice. "Information? About what?"

The Minister's voice lowered, and I could see that Professor McGonagall actually had to lean over us to catch his words. "There's a Silverthorn mirror that the Ministry has been interested in for quite some time, now..."

"That is quite enough," Professor McGonagall said firmly. "I refuse to let this conversation continue without Albus' presence. I suggest that you wait and speak with him."

"Miriel is over the legal age, Minerva," Mr. Fudge said, without taking his eyes off of me. "She doesn't need Albus or a guardian to speak for her."

"That mirror of which you speak no longer exists," she said, looking down her sharp nose at him. "It's time that the Ministry accepted that. Your agents have been all over this castle countless times and have come up with absolutely nothing. Do you think that Miss Silverthorn carries it around in her pocket?"

The Minister searched my face, and I tried to make my face as blank and innocent as possible. My uncle had been right. I really was a horrible liar, and the less I said about the Mirror of Emit, the better.

"Well," he said. He wiped his mouth, and tossed his napkin onto the table. "Miriel will need to register her wand at the Office of Potentially Dangerous Wizards and Witches." He handed me a card. "Please make an appointment with my secretary, my dear." He glanced at Professor McGonagall, who was still fuming. "Perhaps we can talk more privately at the Ministry."

"That man!" Professor McGonagall said after the Ministry of Magic had left. "I'm sure he timed this visit knowing that the Headmaster was absent." She pressed her fingers to her forehead, as if she had a headache. "Albus and the rest of the Order don't need all these distractions right now. I shudder to think how he is handling having your mother and Molly together in the same room."

I passionately hoped that my mother hexed Molly Weasley. "Do you know when the Headmaster and my mom will back from their meeting?" I asked. The idea of being forced to leave Hogwarts was quite upsetting to me, and I wished that I had one of them to talk to.

"There's no telling," She told me, her eyes filled with worry. "I just wish we'd hear something from Severus. I fear the worse. I feel that it is my duty to cancel the Hogsmead trip for the students this weekend. Potter and his friends have no business wandering around freely at a time like this. Hogwarts is the safest place for them."

"Professor, you know that I'll be expelled before I tell the Ministry anything about the Mirror of Emit, and then Draco will have to come with me. He'd be a lot safer here. Isn't there any way to return him to his normal age?" Although I had become very fond of little Draco, he was a handful. I found it draining to keep up with school while trying to keep him entertained and out of trouble. He was missing his home more and more, and was becoming quite restless. Hermione didn't mind watching after him from time to time, but she had her own school work to do.

The Professor nodded. "Thank heavens that Severus had the antidote prepared before he was summoned. It was Albus' idea, of course, to try and prevent Mr. Malfoy from becoming a Death Eater. I think that it would be best for him to return to his natural age. Since circumstances with his father have changed, the entire point of the potions 'accident' has become moot. Albus mentioned giving Mr. Malfoy the antidote at the last meeting, but I'm afraid we became distracted with Severus' disappearance." She considered for a moment. "Bring the wee lad to the infirmary, and Poppy will administer the antidote."

"What about the other students? Won't you have to owl their parents too?"

"Yes, we'll have to come up with _some_ kind of story. As intelligent as Albus is, sometimes his desire to save people can be a bit...impulsive. A very Gryffindor trait, as I'm sure you've discovered by now. As much as I love my house, sometimes I'd give a million Galleons for a nice Ravenclaw Headmaster." She actually smiled a little at me as I left her office.

* * *

"Why do I have to go to the hospital wing?" Draco asked, trying to drag his feet as I pulled him down the hallway. "I'm not sick." 

"Baby, you have to take some medicine." I finally picked him up to carry him the rest of the way. "Do you remember the magical accident you had? Well, this will make everything alright again. You'll be a little older, like you were before the accident."

"Will you still like me when I'm older?" He clung hard to my neck like he didn't want to let go.

I smoothed his silvery, baby-fine hair. "Of course I will. I love you when you're little, and I'll love you when you're bigger, too. You're very smart, and funny, and you'll be a great Quidditch player." I knew that would impress him. I _was_ going to miss reading 'James and the Giant Peach' to the little guy. He had loved that book, especially since there was a giant spider in it.

I sat him down on one of the infirmary beds, and Madam Pomfrey ran to prepare the antidote potion. It would be such a relief to see the teenager. There were so many things I missed about him. I looked forward to his smirks, his outrageous sense of humor and even his perverted jokes. I found that I even missed arguing with him.

"I don't think I want to be bigger," Draco said nervously with a scowl. When the nurse handed him a vial to drink, I thought for a moment he was going to refuse it. He sniffed it tentatively. I had a bad feeling that kids' potions weren't flavored with grape or bubblegum like they were in the Muggle world.

"Down the hatch," Poppy said. She held his nose and poured the potion down his throat. Honestly, sometimes she needed to work on her bedside manner.

Draco sputtered, coughed and made faces.

"Are you okay, Baby?" I said, patting him on the back. I waited anxiously for the antidote to work, but nothing happened.

Draco held up his hands and looked at them. "I'm not getting any bigger," he announced.

"What happened?" I asked the nurse. "Is something wrong with the potion?"

"I honestly don't know," she told me. "Severus didn't leave me any notes. Some potions take time to work, so we'll just have to wait and see. He'd better stay here tonight." She looked like she was not looking forward to that. She sighed. "I'd better try and find something to keep him out of trouble."

* * *

"I hate the Wizarding world," I growled, throwing my clothes forcefully on the floor. I knew better than to brush out my hair when I was angry or upset. I'd probably just rip through the snarls and give myself massive split ends. 

"Have you had a bad day, dearie?" My enchanted mirror asked.

"I thought that Hogwarts would be like- a fairy tale or something," I muttered. "That everything here would be magical and happy. Now I'll probably have to leave. Ever since I got here, people just want to believe the worse about me. I'm either a wealthy snob, or a Death Eater."

"I do have some very good news for you," My mirror said. "I'm sure it will cheer you up."

"What?" I asked. "I definitely need something to go right today."

"I've spoken extensively with the other mirrors in the castle. Once I told them your identity, they were only too happy to pass my messages onto the Mirror of Emit!"

My mouth fell open. "You found the Mirror of Emit?"

"I've actually talked to it!" The mirror's voice rose sharply in excitement. "I can't tell you what it was like, to talk to such a famous mirror. I was thrilled. It wants to meet you."

"It does?" I was rather stunned at this.

"Yes, but I must warn you about something. The Mirror of Emit was nice enough to talk to, but it's not entirely stable. I felt its enormous power, but there's something... not quite right about it."

I swallowed. "Yes, my uncle Lucius warned me about not touching it. My grandfather somehow disappeared into it. I still haven't quite figured that one out. But where is it exactly? Why can't the Ministry of Magic find it?"

"Well, the Headmaster wasn't only your grandfather's friend," The mirror continued. "It seems that they were related in some way. Distant cousins, I believe."

"Oh, so Professor Dumbledore is actually related to me. I wondered why he never mentioned it."

"The Wizarding world is quite a bit smaller than the Muggle one," My mirror answered.  
"Everyone seems to be related in some way to everyone else. Anyway, Professor Dumbledore did pick up a bit of mirror magic himself from being so close to Sebastian Silverthorn. He knew how to store the mirror so that it doesn't actually take up space within the castle. The searching spells that the Ministry of Magic used couldn't detect it."

"How did he do that?" I asked. This was becoming more and more interesting.

"He actually stored the Mirror of Emit _inside_ the Mirror of Erised!" The mirror sighed. "Isn't that a stroke of brilliance? Magical mirrors aren't only flat surfaces, you realize. There are depths, other dimensions to them that only powerful wizards have access to. Normal wizards, I'm afraid, would not have nearly enough power to access them."

I looked down in amazement at my wand, and remembered what Mr. Ollivander had told me, that this kind of wand was created to conduct huge amounts of magical power. He compared my magical power to that of my Grandfather's! I also remembered that Professor Dumbledore had been challenged in trying to restrain my curse at Ron Weasley.

I breathed deeply, trying to steady myself. "But I don't know any of the spells," I said. "I don't know any mirror spells at all."

"The Mirror of Emit asked me to give this to you," The mirror said. "It says that it's tired of being hidden away. It wants to be used."

"What-?" Then I saw it. In the mirror was the reflection of a huge book. It seemed to float in mid-air. It was dark blue, and leather-bound. It looked so ancient I could barely make out the stamped impression of a unicorn on its cover.

"Take it," The mirror urged.

I peered at the volume in confusion. "But it's just a reflection. How-?

"Just reach in and take it, dearie." The mirror voice was beginning to take on an edge of exasperation.

"This is too weird," I muttered. I tentatively touched the surface of the mirror with my fingers, and was amazed when my fingers slipped through it. The glass felt like cool water. I gripped the book and pulled it out!

"Wow!" My fingers caressed the unicorn on the cover. Sitting on the floor, I rested the book on my knees and opened it. The leather pages were illuminated in gold, silver and jewel-like colors of ink. Most of the illustrations were of unicorns, the moon, articles of silver, moonstones, Artemis the Huntress, different herbs and flowers and water. Some of the flowing script I could not read, as it appeared to be written in Latin. "This is gorgeous. Doesn't Professor Dumbledore know about this book?"

"I think it's been within the Mirror of Emit since your Grandfather placed it there," The mirror told me. "I believe it was a personal journal of sorts, spells that he had collected and such. He had many projects he was researching. The Mirror of Emit could very well have been guarding it, saving it for mirror-magi's eyes only. I'm not sure if your mother even knows about it. Your grandfather disappeared quite unexpectedly, and your mother was a very young girl at the time."

"There are so many spells in here," I whispered. There were spells for traveling through mirrors, using mirrors to see distant events, and instructions on how to make various mirrors. There was a slew of time spells. There was a section on healing potions and potions to break curses. "It's almost like... the opposite of the Dark Arts. Is there such a thing as the Light Arts?"

I turned the page, and was astonished to find an illustration...of what? It was a strange looking creature, kind of like a long-legged wolf that walked upright on its hind legs. The moon was round and full in the picture, and painted with silver ink. As I smoothed my fingers over the picture, I experienced the same, shivery feeling along my skin I had when I first laid eyes on Draco. It was there again, the same feeling ...of connection. The golden letters under the picture spelled out, "versipellis."

That night I couldn't sleep to save my life. I lied in my bed in the darkness, but my mind whirled with words and pictures and spells. It finally occurred to me that I could use the Mirror of Emit. Obviously, I was bound to do so, since I _had_ warned my mother in the past to escape Karl, but now I realized that I could do so much more. I now had access to the spells I'd need to contact people in other times, or to even travel to other times. Even with the knowledge that the mirror was dangerous, I felt a rush of power, so intense that at times my heart beat madly. There were suddenly so many possibilities. I could see my father before he had died. I could see what the future held. I could even go back a few days ago and avoid Ronald Weasley. What if I could save the future of the Wizarding world from Voldemort by finding out what actions he would take? I finally understood why my Uncle Lucius had been so desperate to take possession of the mirror.

I got up very early, relieved to finally see a dim glow of sunrise fill my room. My bones ached and I was exhausted from lack of sleep. I fixed a thermos of tea and made some sandwiches for the day. I dressed in my heavy cloak, pinned my braids up with my silver and emerald hair sticks, and walked out to the unicorn stables to see Amalthea. I needed her calming influence.

The chilly air was refreshing and felt good on my hot face. When I arrived, the surrounding countryside was bathed in buttery light. The only sounds were of birds chirping. Usually Almathea was prancing around her yard, talking to some new animal friend. This morning, however, she was nowhere in sight.

"Baby?" I pushed the door of the stable in, and peered inside. I had made this place much more comfortable, since Draco and I spent much of our time out here. I'd even had Hermione transfigure some furniture and a bed out here so I could study while Draco played and took naps. I'd hung up the tapestry that Sr. Angela had sent me, and the place actually looked rather homey.

"Amalthea?" I looked everywhere, but she was gone!


	25. Chapter Twenty Four

Author's Note: I'm way too much in love with Remus in this chapter, so there's probably way too much description, dialogue and not enough action (sorry, Moonjasmine!) The fact that Remus is half-Muggle comes from JK Rowling's web chat at The Leaky Cauldron site. Background info about Molly Weasley comes from the Harry Potter Lexicon. Hagrid's hut is located on the edge of the Forbidden Forest, so I figure that Amalthea's stable is, too!

* * *

Chapter Twenty-Four 

"Amalthea!" My voice rang high and thin in the cold, morning air. "Where are you?" Panic rose up in my throat. I thought about those horrible hunters who preyed on unicorns. Surely none of them hunting in the forest would be this close to Hogwarts, but maybe they had heard about my familiar and kidnapped her. "Amalthea!"

Finally my eyes caught a golden blur on the edge of the woods. The foal ran toward me so quickly that my eyes almost couldn't follow.

"There's an animal in the forest!" Amalthea pranced and jumped around. "He's hurt. He needs help."

"What are you doing running around loose?" I shrieked at her, gasping with relief. "Are you out of your little unicorn mind? You shouldn't be out there alone. Mr. Filch told me there are all kinds of creepy things in that forest." Besides there being unicorn hunters, I recalled the caretaker's stories about giant spiders, centaurs and werewolves. Honestly, who would have built a school near a place called the Forbidden Forest, anyway?

"I heard him howling in the woods," She said. "Early this morning. It was terrible, and Hagrid's not home."

"Howling? It's not Fang, is it?" Hagrid would really be torn up about it if it was. I fingered the silvery sticks in my hair. I suppose if unicorn's blood could heal humans, it could heal animals as well.

"There's no time," The foal said. "He's dying." She turned and ran into the woods.

"Come back here!" I followed her. "We won't get lost, will we?

"Come on, hurry!" She said, still running. She was a luminous blur of gold in the dim forest, leaping over tree roots and bushes.

I blundered after Amalthea until the trees became thicker than ever, so that the morning light overhead was no longer visible. I couldn't move very quickly now; there were tree roots and stumps in my way, barely visible in the near blackness. We walked for what seemed like at least half an hour, my cloak snagging on low-slung branches and brambles.

"Oh God," I panted, trying to keep up. The trees were now so thick and oppressive that it seemed hard to breathe. "What was that stupid dog doing out here so deep in the forest?"

Finally the foal stopped ahead of me. "He's here!"

The dark form was huge, and lied in a hollow of earth and leaves. The thing panted and whimpered, but appeared to be paralyzed. I walked forward. It had the head and snout of a wolf, but with a long body and long legs. It was definitely not Fang. It was much larger than a dog, or even a man.

"Holy shit," I whispered, taking a step backward. My mind flashed back to the illustration in my grandfather's book. I glanced up at the sky, but the moon could not be seen. "Amalthea, please don't tell me that this is a werewolf!"

"He's tame. He won't bite you," the foal said. "His name is Moony."

"You'd better be right about this," I muttered. I crept closer, bending down on one knee to see what looked like a metal shaft sticking out from the animal's thigh. "Oh, that looks painful. Sorry, this is really going to hurt," I told him. I gripped the bolt and pushed it through the skin until it came out the other side. The shaft of the bolt gleamed silver. The wolf whimpered and howled and tried to claw the ground.

My hands shook violently as I removed the thin vial from my braids. I had to steady my hand to pour several drops into the wound. As the wound closed up, light spread under the fur until the entire animal glowed as if he had swallowed the sun. Then it vanished. The creature lumbered up until he was sitting on his haunches. Even sitting down, he towered over me. His eyes shone at me through the darkness like gold coins.

"Nice wolfie," I said nervously. "Moony."

The creature replied with strange, soft, crooning whimpers. He bent his head down on my leg, and I ran my hand down his nose and scratched behind his ear.

"He says we have to go," Amalthea said. "There are bad men in the forest."

We made our way slowly through the forest, weaving around the massive tree roots and thorn bushes. Moony walked behind me, pushing me with his nose when he thought I was going too slowly. From time to time he sniffed the air and looked behind him. We walked this way until the trees began to clear.

I heard a growl, and when I turned around, I was stunned at what I saw. The wolf stood in a pool of sunlight that fell down through the trees. He began to transform.

There was a terrible snarling noise. Bones rippled and scraped under the animal's skin. The wolf's head was shortening. So was his body. His shoulders stretched out and slid into a different position. The hair on his face and hands disappeared, and his clawed paws finally changed into fingers.

"Holy shit," I whispered again. My legs were so weak, I couldn't move. It was the pain the creature was in, rather than the transformation itself, that horrified me.

At last there was an ordinary looking man, flung out naked on the forest floor. He lied as still as death, but his breathing was laborious. He was drenched in sweat, and had dark smudges under his eyes.

With a trembling hand I smoothed his tangled, brown hair back from his face. He didn't look too old, but I noticed that his hair was heavily flecked with grey. "Are you okay, Moony? Are you in any pain?"

"No human has called me that for quite some time." He said in a hoarse voice. When he opened his eyes, they were clear and focused. "I'm fine now. Only the transformation is painful. You were very brave. Thank you, Miriel. I need to warn you that I was only in my human frame of mind because of a special potion that Professor Snape provides for me. If you should ever see another werewolf, chances are he will be extremely dangerous and out of control. "

How did he know my name? How did he know Professor Snape? I glanced at Amalthea, who was now snorting into the man's hair and trying to chew on his nose.

"Yes, yes," he said to her with a sigh and a pat on her head. "Thanks to you as well, you gorgeous little thing. It's unfortunate that I can only understand unicorn speech when I'm in my wolf form."

He pushed himself to sitting upright with an effort. He touched his thigh in wonder, but the wound was completely gone. "This is absolutely amazing. What you did seems to have completely neutralized the effects of the silver. That bolt, you see, was rapidly poisoning me. Damn that Macnair-" A low growl emitted from deep in his throat.

"Macnair?" I searched my memory. "Isn't he a Death Eater? One of those that escaped from Azkaban?"

"He also used to be the executioner for the 'Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures,' as well as part of the 'Werewolf Capture Unit 'at the Ministry of Magic," He said grimly. "I should have known he'd never step a foot into this forest without being armed against werewolves. I was lucky that I wasn't captured, which would have been far worse than being killed. I might have been if they hadn't been so distracted by their...entertainment." He choked this last word out in disgust. "Those Muggles-" He glanced at me, and saw my stricken face. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't even be speaking to you about this."

"You're Remus Lupin, aren't you? You used to teach at Hogwarts." My mind raced. Of course, a werewolf would make an excellent spy in the forest at night. He was swift, dangerous, and probably had superior hearing and eyesight. What had he seen or heard?

Remus struggled to his feet. I tried not to stare at his butt, but I had never seen a man naked before. Well, not in real life, anyway. He brushed leaves and grass off himself, and pulled twigs out of his hair. He would have had a rather pleasant face, mildly handsome, if he had not been so haggard and tired. Something in the cut of his hair and his moustache reminded me of an old-fashioned photograph from the forties. He had wide-set, intelligent eyes, a rather long nose, and a sensitive mouth. He didn't seem my mother's type at all.

"Why does Amalthea call you Moony," I asked, glancing away and clearing my throat a little. "Is it because you moon people?" I untied my cloak to hand to him.

"Good Lord," he muttered, with a glance down his body. His cheeks flushed pink. It was amazing how he was becoming a proper English gentleman right before my eyes. He took my cloak and wrapped the thick green velvet around him. "Forgive me. I tend to be a little dazed after my transformations."

I had to use an enlargement spell on the fabric before it was long enough. He must have been about six and a half feet tall, and towered over me as I tried to steady his staggering.

"Are you sure you're alright?" I asked. He'd never make it back to Hogwarts at this rate.

"I'm always exhausted after I transform," he said. "All I need is a little rest. And food. I'm famished." His face suddenly became grimly determined. "I must get word to Dumbledore, as quickly as possible."

"What about?" I asked anxiously.

He hesitated, and his eyes were full of dread. "It's, er, confidential, I'm afraid." The expression on his face suddenly became shut and reserved. When he glanced at me again, his eyes were unreadable.

"I cannot believe you're not going to tell me anything! You know, just because my father was a Death Eater doesn't mean I'm one," I said, feeling a flare of hurt and irritation. The entire incident with the Daily prophet was still fresh in my mind. I had a sudden impulse to leave "Moony" here and let him walk back to the castle alone.

"I didn't mean-"He began.

"Obviously you've been listening to that bitch, Molly Weasley."

Remus stopped, and his lips tightened. I could tell that he was offended by my choice of words. "I'll have you know that Molly is a good and kind person," He began in a paternal, lecturing tone. "She's been one of the few people in the Wizarding world who treats me like a member of her family instead of like some... beast. She can be quite fierce when protecting her children, but-"

"Well, she hasn't been that kind to me!" I snapped. "Because of her, the Hogwarts Board of Governors is going to expel me from Hogwarts."

"Try to see things from Molly's point of view, Miriel," He said gently but firmly, gripping my shoulder to steady himself as we continued to weave through the trees in the direction of the castle. "You almost cursed her son. You might have killed many more of the students in the Great Hall. The first time Voldemort was in power, a man named Peter Pettigrew attacked my best friend, and ended up murdering dozens of Muggles. There was only a crater in the middle of the street so deep it had cracked the sewer below. There were Muggle bodies everywhere. And believe me, Pettigrew was not remotely considered a great wizard, and he certainly did not possess nearly the amount of magical power that you do. People in the Wizarding world remember these things. Molly's own relatives, the Prewitts, were also killed by Death Eaters. Your own father-"

"Don't say anything about my father!" I blurted out, blinking away the hot tears that burned my eyes. "I'm sick of hearing about it. My dad died letting me and my mother escape Voldemort, which everyone seems to have forgotten about. He saw something in the Mirror of Erised that changed him. Professore Dumbledore said so."

Remus was quiet for a moment, and then he said, "I'm sorry that I have upset you. I just believe that it's best if we can see things from other people's points of view. I did not mean to imply that you were on Voldemort's side or any such nonsense. Members of the Order have solemnly sworn not to discuss our business with anyone who is not a member." He stopped and gently tipped my face up until my eyes met his. A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "I doubt very seriously if potential Death Eaters run around rescuing poor, old, half-blood werewolves." The man's eyes were so intelligent and kind, that I felt my anger slowly drain away.

"I wish I could join the Order of the Phoenix," I told him.

He chuckled. "If that happened, Moody would have such a fit, he'd probably spontaneously combust. He's an auror who believes in 'constant vigilance.' Your close associations with the Malfoys make him quite nervous."

Soon Remus collapsed on the bed at the unicorn stable, immediately devoured all my sandwiches and tea, and owled Professor Dumbledore a letter. The headmaster was obviously going to have to send someone after him, to take him back to London. He was much too exhausted to apparate himself.

"So," I said, "I've heard that you have a thing for Professor Lovelace. I can hardly wait to tell her what a nice butt you have."

Remus choked on his tea. "Pardon me?" When he saw that I was teasing, he continued. "As much as I admire your mother, and as much as I enjoy baiting Severus, I am realistic. I am well aware that she is a bit out of my league."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, your mother comes from a powerful, ancient pure-blooded family. In the Wizarding world, I'm afraid that everyone is 'out of my league.' Werewolves do not have the same rights that 'normal' wizards and witches do. I'm considered to be cursed. People are afraid to touch me, as if somehow they could catch Lycanthropy from shaking my hand or hugging me. My mother was a Muggle, and I only manage to survive because I'm so familiar with the Muggle world that I can find the odd job here and there if necessary. I'm lucky enough never to have had to ask for help from the Ministry of Magic's 'Werewolf Services,' but I am usually well below the poverty line."

"Things like that don't matter to my mom," I said quietly. "Or to me." I remembered my previous words to my mother about Remus, however, with a little shame.

He smiled a bit sadly. "I know. But they do to the rest of the Wizarding world. Talk about a scandal. A relationship between your mother and I would be- Ah, well, I won't go there."

On an impulse I slid my arms around him and held him. "I'm going to call you 'Moony' from now on," I said against his cheek. "Just to commemorate the day I met you."

"Heavens, you really are a pushover for a sad story, aren't you?" He chuckled with a little embarrassment, but held onto me a bit too long, like someone who has been starved for human contact. When he sat back, his eyes glittered wetly for a moment. "I would very much like it if you'd call me that. My best friend used to call me that in school." He reached out and took my hands in his. "When one wizard- or a witch- saves another wizard's life, it creates a certain bond between them. This is magic at its deepest and most impenetrable. I want you to know, Miriel, that I take my responsibilities very seriously. By saving my life today, you have given me the right to use whatever powers I have at my disposal to protect you. If even from yourself."

"What do you mean?" Something told me another lecture was on its way.

"From everything your mother has told me, it's obvious that you will come into contact with the Mirror of Emit. I want you to swear to me that you will not attempt any kind of time travel."

I squirmed inside, remembering all those spells in the book the Mirror of Emit had given me. "But-"

"There's a reason why time travel is illegal," He continued firmly. "And why it's an offense that can land people in Azkaban. It's too dangerous. It can create complicated time loops, and many wizards have had accidents. They've ended up killing their past or future selves, or getting killed by others who saw them. I don't know why Dumbledore doesn't just have the damned thing destroyed."

"But Hermione told me that she one year she had a time turner," I said.

"Those kind of time turners only enable the user to travel through time within a period of a few hours," He said, his eyes very intense and serious. His hands tightened on mine. "That Mirror is extremely dangerous, and I want you to promise this to me."

I swallowed, but nodded. "Okay, Moony. I promise." I didn't tell Remus, however, that there were many things one could do with the Mirror of Emit than just travel through time.

"Well, Miriel, isn't this just cozy?" A familiar voice coolly drawled. A fully-grown Draco stood in the stable doorway. "First you've been making friends with Mudbloods, and now werewolves."

I turned my head, wondering how much Draco had heard. "Oh, Draco! I forgot all about you in the hospital wing. I got distracted. Thank God that antidote worked," I said. "I was afraid you'd be a little kid forever!"

Draco's eyes flickered over us, taking in the scene, and I cringed to think of what he saw. Remus and I were sitting on the bed, the man was dressed only in my cloak, and he had been holding my hands. Remus was too sick and exhausted to be very attractive right now, but still, it must have looked suspicious. Draco's face tightened with disgust. "What the bloody hell are you doing here?" He asked Remus in a rude tone. "I thought Professor Snape got rid of **you** a long time ago."

I thought Remus was going to become angry, but to my surprise, he merely smiled pleasantly. "You may find that things have changed, Mr. Malfoy, and that you'll have to treat others with more respect than you have in the past," He said mildly. "Your father and Professor Snape are no longer here to protect you."

From Draco's stricken face, I knew that McGonagall or Dumbledore had told him everything that had happened. He always tended to lash out in hostility when he was afraid or insecure, and now he had lost both of his parents and his favorite mentor. His place of leadership in the Slytherin House was gone. He probably wouldn't even have Crabbe and Goyle anymore. "You filthy-"He started toward Remus with a snarl, his wand pointed towards him.

Remus, of course, didn't have his wand. I jumped up in front of him, and Draco found my wand pointed directly at him. "Draco, stop this! Stop right now!"

To my shock, Draco did stop. He looked at my wand, and then me. The flash of betrayal and grief on his face was terrible. Then, without another word, he left the room.

* * *

Happy Halloween, to all my reviewers! 

Arsinoe de Blassenville: Thank you for your review. I'm afraid I stole the term "shit-stirrer" from an Irish boyfriend. I guess it's a common term over there for people who are, er, always trying to stir up shit! I'm glad you find this all exciting. Don't worry, there will be more of Molly Weasley to come. I know that she and Ron are your favorite people ;-)

MoonJasmine: Yeah, I guess I do get carried away with too much description and back story. I do like torturing you with suspense, though (heh) just think, if I put TOO much action in the story, it will be over quicker and then you'll have to find another fan fic to read!

Escaped: I hope that your weekend from hell has improved! I would have one of your cinnamon rolls, but I AM on Weight Watchers now (ha) I get nervous and antsy just writing my story. I think it was very smart of you to just stick to a few characters in your stories. I'm afraid I like to write about so many characters, that my story is turning into an epic. I finished Leda, (it's over! Sob! BooHoo!) And now I'm onto another sexy story between Lucius, Sev and an original character on the same site called "The Knight Errant Chronicles."

quidditchgal91: Thank you for your encouragement! It means a lot to me.

Monique: Your review is just so nice! I appreciate it. I was feeling quite depressed about school work and medical bills that day, but your review cheered me up so much! I found it so encouraging, that I wrote this chapter sooner than I had been planning to.

Kiwiblue: I hope to keep updating regularly, and I will probably write a lot more after school ends and Christmas break begins. Plus, I'll need to procrastinate about finding a job, and this will probably make me write more as well (ha!)


	26. Chapter Twenty Five

Author's Note: Help! I've fallen into my Graduate thesis and I can't get out! This terrible, never-ending paper is sucking my soul out my eyeballs (kind of like that machine on "The Dark Crystal." Heh.) Anyway, thank you so much for all your wonderful reviews. I'm sorry that I can't crank the chapters out faster right now. (I need a vacation!!!) For some reason, Fan Fiction seems to be having some editing problems tonight, so it's missing some spaces between words.

* * *

Chapter Twenty-Five

"Draco, stop!" I yelled after him, but he ignored me and just kept walking back to the castle. I refrained from shrieking obscenities at him, and in a moment I was glad, because Professor Dumbledore suddenly appeared. I saw Draco draw back, startled. Then he spoke heatedly to the headmaster, pointing in my direction. His gestures became more and more animated, but the headmaster appeared as calm as usual. Even from this distance I could tell that Professor Dumbledore's face was lined with fatigue.

"That creep!" I told Moony. "I bet he thinks he's going to get you into trouble." I felt a deep wave of disappointment. "I was looking forward to seeing Draco again, but now I wonder if we should send him back to childhood."

Moony gave me a thoughtful, evaluating look. "Well, it's quite common for boys who are in love to make total asses out of themselves," He said in his quiet, hoarse voice. "Malfoy, of course, had a good head start in that direction anyway." He leaned against the pillows, looking more and more drained and exhausted as time went by. I felt terribly sorry for him, and more than a little embarrassed by Draco's behavior.

"Love?" I said, a bit sullenly. "Draco's not in love with me. He just wants to marry me because I'm 'shag-worthy." I glanced over at Moony's tired but amused expression. "Sorry. He thinks of me as a possession or something."

"It's not typical for Malfoy to walk away from a duel when he's angry," He said. "Harry can vouch for that. I wouldn't have thought it in Malfoy's nature that he could actually care for you, but..."

Professor Dumbledore entered the stable, with a sullen Draco trailing reluctantly after him. "My dear boy," The headmaster said to Remus. "I can't tell you how relieved and happy I am that Miriel found you this morning. Please, let's sit down." He motioned for Draco to sit down.

Draco sat on the seat furthest from me, and refused to look at me or Moony. I studied him for a moment. I had forgotten how handsome he was as a teenager, but that still didn't stop me from wanting to slap that sullen look off his face.

"It appears that Mr. Malfoy has some...mistaken impressions that had better be cleared up." Professor Dumbledore turned to Draco. "You probably did not notice the full moon last night. Mr. Malfoy, can you please tell me what your father's ex-associates do during this phase of the moon in the Forbidden Forest?"

Draco shifted uncomfortably. "Some dark spells are stronger during the full moon," He finally said. "The Dark Lord holds, um, parties and stuff."

"Ugh!" I said with a shudder. "What kind of party would **he** throw? Never mind, I don't want to know."

Dumbledore nodded to Draco. "Yes, well, I sent Remus to the forest, in his werewolf form, of course, to use his remarkable hearing and perhaps to discover information about Professor Snape and your father. Unfortunately, he was attacked by one of the Death Eaters. Miriel and her unicorn found him in the forest and saved his life."

"Remus was just thanking me," I couldn't help but add.

"It was a long shot," Professor Dumbledore said. "I have been attempting to make some contact with your father, Mr. Malfoy, but all of my tracing spells have failed. Even Fawkes has failed to find him."

"Why do you want to find him?" Draco asked. "Why would you care?"

"Believe it or not, it was never my intention to make an enemy of your father," The Headmaster said. "During his time here at Hogwarts, I believed that he was a talented, intelligent and resourceful wizard. As it is, your father would be invaluable to us in our fight against Voldemort. Do you have any means of contacting him?"

Draco looked thoughtful. "When I was a little kid, I thought I heard him and Miriel talking, when we were at the ice cream parlor. I was under the table. It's kind of hazy, like it happened a long time ago, but I thought he gave her a mirror."

"He gave me a communication mirror," I said, a bit sheepishly. "But it, um, broke."

Professor Dumbledore looked at me over his half-moon glasses, a little reproachfully, I thought.

"Can't it be fixed?" Draco asked Professor Dumbledore.

"Perhaps, perhaps," The headmaster said. "The mirror can be repaired, but the magical link to Lucius might be more difficult. Do you still have the pieces, Miriel?"

I nodded."I wasn't sure what to do with them, so I stuck them in a drawer by my bed."

"Then I shall have Twinky bring them to me at once," Dumbledore said. "Time is of the essence." He clapped his hands, spoke her name, and Twinky suddenly appeared. When she had left to obtain the mirror, Professor Dumbledore's face grew even graver. "Remus, please explain to them what you discovered last night."

The same look of dread that had appeared there earlier crossed Remus' face. He glanced at me, and I could tell that he was reluctant. "I didn't hear anything about Lucius Malfoy," He said. "But Lestrange appeared to be in charge of last nights...festivities. Evidently, she convinced the Dark Lord that Severus is a traitor. The Death Eaters believe that the potions accident that involved the Slytherin boys was not merely an accident. Severus also failed to obtain useful information about Harry and his friends from Miriel. After the Dark Lord heard about Miriel's display of power in the Great Hall, he has become very interested in her. He believes that Severus was withholding information from him about the amount of power she possesses."

"Oh, no!" I whispered in horror. I felt a sickening rush of guilt. I glanced quickly over at Draco, and his features were grim and pale.

"Is Professor Snape still alive?" Draco asked.

"Unfortunately," Remus said grimly. "I believe the Dark Lord gave him to Lestrange as a reward, or a gift, of sorts. He's her own 'pet' now, but I couldn't discover where she was keeping him. The Dark Lord had been quite pleased that she managed to use Dobby to enter the Malfoy estate and assassinate Lucius."

I felt sick. "What's she like? Is she as bad as the Dark Lord?" My mind filled with images of Karl being tortured.

"Nearly," Remus said. "She's a sadist, and a master at obtaining information through torture."

Twinky appeared in the stables with the velvet bag of shattered glass.

"Speculum Reparo," Professor Dumbledore said, tapping the handful of glass with his wand. The small, square mirror became whole. He used a few other spells I had never heard before, and soon the mirror glowed so brightly that the light reflected off the Headmaster's spectacles and the little stars on his robes. Soon, he handed the mirror to me. "If you please, Miriel. Just speak your uncle's name."

I took the mirror, and said, "Lucius Malfoy" to the surface of it. The mirror glowed softly. Unfortunately, nothing else happened.

I looked at Professor Dumbledore.

"Please continue," He urged gently. "It may take him a few moments to answer."

After a while, I tried again. "I don't think it's going to-"

"What the bloody hell took you so long to contact me?" A voice rushed from the mirror. Only it wasn't my uncle's voice. It was a woman's voice, low, sultry and hateful. A pair of dark eyes glared at me from the mirror's surface.

I was so surprised, it took me a moment to find my voice. "Oh, excuse me. I must have the...um, wrong number?" I glanced up at Draco, who looked as surprised as I did.

"Don't be ridiculous," the voice spat. "I have been trying to avoid being found. This polyjuice potion was the best I could come up with in such short notice. At least the donor is a pure-blooded witch. Do you have any important information for me concerning the Mirror of Emit?"

"Um, Professor Dumbledore wants to talk to you, Uncle Lucius." I said hastily. It felt very odd calling a woman "uncle."

I could hear curses through the mirror as I passed it on to the Headmaster. Obviously, my uncle wasn't pleased.

"Lucius, my boy, I'm so relieved that you managed to escape your sister-in-law's plans for your demise," Professor Dumbledore said into the mirror.

"What do you want, Dumbledore?" Even though the voice was filled with disdain, there was also an undercurrent of resignation. I wondered if he had been expecting to hear from the Headmaster.

"I'm afraid that it's Severus," The Headmaster said. "Bellatrix has him held prisoner, where, we do not know. You must have some idea."

"So the Dark Lord finally caught on to him, did he? That's not surprising. The Dark Lord has been using the Dementors that left Azkaban to hold his prisoners now, and he no longer uses the same facilities. Bellatrix could be using the Dementors to lower Severus' defenses to her tactics to gain information. You might not have much time, you old fool, before the Dark Lord knows your greatest secrets."

I covered my face, as hot tears streamed down my cheeks. I remembered the horrible stories about the Dementors I had heard. I felt Moony put a comforting hand on my shoulder.

"I want to offer you sanctuary, Lucius." Professor Dumbledore said. "That offer, of course, extends to your wife."

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Draco start at the Headmaster's words, and lean forward, as if eager to hear his father's answer.

"You mean you want me to help you in your fight against the Dark Lord," My uncle said. "Which is ridiculous. The Dark Lord is just too powerful, and that ridiculous prophecy about Potter killing him is a fairy tale. For me to join in with you would be suicide."

"May I point out to you, Lucius, that you don't appear to have many other options. As you can see, I was quite aware of your plan to use Miriel to obtain the Mirror of Emit, and that is something that I can never allow to happen."

My uncle screamed so loudly through the mirror that I couldn't understand what he said. Abruptly, the mirror went black.

"He hung up on you," I said, in shock. I wondered if my uncle actually hated the Headmaster so much that he would rather be alone in exile than ever fight with him against the Dark Lord.

"Well," Professor Dumbledore let out a sigh. "Don't worry," He told Draco in a kind tone. "Your father needs some time to consider my offer. My boy, would you be so kind... I need to talk to Miriel alone for a moment. Have you finished all your packing?"

"Packing?" I asked.

"Now that he has been restored to his former age by Professor Snape's potion, it is time for Mr. Malfoy to return to the Slytherin House," The Headmaster told me. "Run along now, your cousin will join you in a few moments."

Draco did not look happy about this at all. He shot me an "I'll deal with you later" look, before he left the stables. It still amazed me how much he could look like his father.

"I believe that the Minister of Magic came to see you," The Headmaster told me.

"He told me I might be expelled from Hogwarts!" I said.

The Headmaster nodded. "I'm sorry Miriel, but that is true. A few members of the school board are sympathetic to Voldemort's cause. I simply cannot allow them an excuse to have me replaced with another Headmaster right now, when my position here at this school is so critical. I also cannot allow Cornelius to obtain information about the Mirror of Emit."

"But where am I going to go, where I'd be safe from the Dark Lord?" I sniffed, trying not to cry again. My nerves were still on edge about Severus. "What about Amalthea?"

"Don't worry, my dear," Professor Dumbledore said. "I'm not about to set you loose on your own in Muggle London or anything like that. I do have a place in mind. A place the Dark Lord will never find. Or Cornelius Fudge, for that matter. We will teach you to apparate, and you can visit your familiar whenever you like. You know that Hagrid would take very good care of her."

Moony looked a little puzzled, and then he smiled with understanding. "Are you by chance speaking of a 'grim,' 'old' place?" He asked.

Professor Dumbledore nodded, a faint twinkle in his eyes.

"I don't want to go off somewhere and live by myself!" I said. "I just made friends with Hermione! And my mother is here now. And Draco-" I stopped, remembering that I was still furious at him.

"Oh, you won't be alone, believe me," Moony said. "Although at times, no doubt, you will wish you were. The place can get a little hectic at times. Your mother shows up quite frequently, and I happen to know an excellent 'Defense Against The Dark Arts' tutor that lives there. He will be quite happy to guide you in your education, as well as keep you out of trouble." As I wondered what in the world he meant by this, Moony turned to Professor Dumbledore. "But are you sure about this, Sir? What about the, er, cook?" He asked.

The Headmaster sighed, and his voice was laced with annoyance. "She is the one who has placed me in this position. We will all have to learn to get along."

"What are you guys talking about?" I asked. "Who's the cook?"

"Everything will be fine," Professor Dumbledore told me in a soothing tone of voice.

I barely caught Moony rolling his eyes.

"There is a price, however," Professor Dumbledore continued. "For living at this place."

"What?" I asked. "How much does rent cost here in Wizarding England?"

"There is no rent. The price is...absolute secrecy. No one must know about this place. It is unplottable and hidden away behind a Fidelius Charm, in Muggle London, but nevertheless, you must not mention its existence to anyone." Professor Dumbledore stood, and I could tell that our conversation was coming to a close.

"I won't," I said. "But what about Draco? Aren't I his guardian until he's seventeen? Don't I have to take care of the Malfoy Estate?"

"Cornelius knows very well that Lucius' lawyer takes care of all his possessions," The Headmaster answered. "Other than sign a few documents, you have very little to do. Cornelius was hoping to become close to you. Not only to discover more about the Mirror of Emit, but no doubt he was also hoping that you would allow the Ministry of Magic access to the Malfoy Estate."

"There are many things in Malfoy Manor that Fudge would love to get his hands on," Moony told me. "Narcissa was able to hide them from the Ministry during Lucius' short 'vacation' in Azkaban."

"I wish that you would have told me about the communication mirror that your uncle gave to you, Miriel," Professor Dumbledore said. "It could have saved precious time."

"I'm sorry," I said.

"I must ask you if you have any other important information to report to me." The Headmaster peered at me over his glasses, and his silvery-blue eyes were intense.

"Anything else?" Inside, I squirmed uncomfortably under that piercing gaze. "Um, no."

Professor Dumbledore's lips tightened, and his look of reproach turned to disappointment. He waited, as if I would add more to my answer. Finally, he sighed, and turned to the entrance of the stables. "I will be in my office later on this evening," He told me. "I will expect you there. Perhaps you will remember anything else that you have 'forgotten' to tell me." Then he and Moony vanished.

"Damn it, how did he know?" I asked myself. "Does that man know everything that happens at this school?" How did he know about the book of spells the Mirror of Emit had given to me? It was most unfair. Now I was going to have to hand it over, or I'd feel overwhelmed with guilt everytime he looked at me.

It suddenly occurred to me that if I was leaving Hogwarts soon, I had better get a move on with the Mirror of Emit, and contact my mother in the past. It would not be an easy conversation, I was sure of it. She had been in a lot of denial about Karl, and she would be in shock about seeing me from the future.

When I got back to my quarters, I thought something was wrong. It took me a moment to realize that it seemed empty without all the toys flung about and crayon drawings on the walls.

I stepped further into the room. "Draco?" But my quarters were cool and quiet. He must have already left for the Slytherin rooms, and I felt a swift jab of disappointment. It wasn't until I walked to my bedroom that I found him, lying stomach-down on my bed!

I froze as I saw what Draco was reading. "My book!" I said. I had stuck the leather volumn under my bed after I was through reading it last night. "You creep! What are you doing snooping around my things?" A hot flush of anger and horror spread across my face. He did not need to know about these spells! The less he knew about anything, the better.

"Ambrosius was hopping around like mad around your bed," Draco drawled coolly, not even bothering to look at me. "He knew it was there, and he wanted to show me. Keeping secrets, are we? First, communication mirrors, and now spell books?"

"You are such a liar," I yelled at him. I glared at the toad, which was sitting like a big, green blob at Draco's feet. "That stupid toad doesn't know your ass from a hole in the ground." I tried to grab the book away from him, but unfortunately, during the struggle, I heard a loud rip.

"Oh, no!" I wailed. "What did you do? You ripped a page!" Looking down, I cringed. It was the illuminated picture of a werewolf.

As Draco's eyes fell to the page in his hands, his face tightened into a scowl. "What's this?" He said. He read the Latin words to himself. "This is a potion that's supposed to cure Lycanthropy. What? Are you trying to find spells to help your new _boyfriend_? That werewolf piece of trash? He was always kissing Potter's arse when he was the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, did you know that?"

"He's not a piece of trash!"I shrieked. "That's a horrible thing to say! Get-out-of-my-room!" My hands flew out topush him. Before I could see him move, however, Draco grabbed my arm and jerked me forward, until I landed on top of him. I had forgotten how fast he was. The heavy book of spells landed on the floor with a thud.

"Let me go!" I gasped. I struggled, but his arm was like a vice.

"I won't," He said, "Until you tell me that you missed me." His lips found their way to my throat, and his free hand slid up the front of my shirt.

"I didn't miss you!" I tried to wriggle out of his grasp. I became more and more outraged as his hand squeezed one of my breasts. "You bastard."

"You told me that you'd love me when I returned to my normal size," Draco said between kisses. "I remember."

"Well I don't!" Frantically, I managed to reach up and pull my wand out of my braids. As Draco tried to grab it, he released me long enough for me to pull away from him. I pointed the wand at him, and reached down to pick up the book. "You were an adorable little boy, Draco," I said. "You were so nice, and everybody liked you. Even Hermione."

Draco grimaced. "You let that Mudblood take care of me! She gave me a bath! Ugh!"

"Hermione and Moony are my friends, and they're wonderful people." I slowly backedupout of the room."And **you** are just a hateful, mean coward. It's very sad how you turned out. The Grey Lady was right, I have to see what people are really like, instead of just looking at their potential."

Draco took a step toward me, his face twisted with horror. "Don't say that," He said.

"I'm leaving," I told him. "Did Professor Dumbledore tell you that? I have to leave Hogwarts, and I'm going to live with Remus Lupin. Somewhere where you can't ever find me. He's going to become my new tutor, and I bet he's going toteach me a lot of things you never will."

"My father-" Draco began.

"Isn't here, Draco! I never want to see you again." Before he could say anything more, I ran to my bathroom and slammed the door. Locking it with a spell, I sat on the floor and tried to catch my breath.

"Oh, dearie, are you allright?" My enchanted mirror said. "Are you two having a bit of a row?"

"Miriel, come out, right now!" Draco pounded and kicked on the door, until I put a muffling spell on it.

I cried. I cried for poor Severus, who was probably being tortured by Bellatrix Lestrange even now. I knew it wasn't entirely my fault, but I felt responsible just the same. Why did I have to do something so stupid as to try and curse Ronald Weasley? Why couldn't I have held my temper? I cried that Severus would probably never become my step-father. I cried that poor Moony was a social outcast and the Wizarding world regarded him as "trash." I cried because it was so disappointing to like someone so much as I did Draco, and to have him act so hatefully. He really was a lost cause.

After awhile I calmed down a bit, and absently looked through the pages of my grandfather's book. There were so many spells. There was even a spell for finding a person, but as I read it more closely, I realized that you could only find the person if they were looking into another mirror. I doubted if Bellatrix would be so kind as to give Severus a mirror to check his appearance while she tortured him.

"What are you going to do?" My mirror asked me.

"I'm not exactly sure," I told it. "But I know I have to do something. Can you tell me, how exactly do I get to the Mirror of Emit from here?"

Thanks for all the great reviews! I love you guys! (Sniff!) Where would my self-esteem be without you?

Arsinoe de Blassenville: Naked Remus is always excellent (heh!) Well you can't expect Remus to transform fully clothed, can you? ;-)

Quidditchgal91: Thanks for your nice words. I WISH I could update every day!

Kiwiblue: You're not old enough to have a job yet? Me neither (okay, I'm lying, I'm in my thirties.) I think that poor Draco is a jealous kind of guy. All those insecurities over Harry Potter, you know, and he probably associates Remus with favoring Harry.

Ice-princess42: I'm so happy I've given you a cause to happy dance (kind of like the dance Snoopy does)

Kinkfest: Remus is NOT OLD! He's only 37 or 38. NOT OLD NOT OLD NOT OLD. People in their thirties are young and fresh, I tell you! But I agree, Miriel is a bit of a flirt.

Escaped: I forgot all about poor Macnair getting locked in a room full of angry animals! I loved that scene, too! He really does deserve it. I am kind of ticked off at Draco, too, right now. I always was a sucker for the underdog. Er, underwolf. My brain hurts from all the writing I've been doing for school. Besides the thesis and website, I'm also writing 3 literature papers and doing an oral report. I've got carpal tunnel!

MoonJasmine: Thanks for your review! I can't wait for the conclusion, either. But then it will all be over and I'll be sad.

Badger: Wow- thank you so much for reading and reviewing my story! You're just too cool.

1lonelyangel: Thank you, I try very hard to be original. I love unicorns, too.

Redskin: Hey, how did you know about the angst followed by a big kiss? You must have read a lot of fan fiction! Thanks for reading my story.


	27. Chapter Twenty Six

Author's Note: A thousand apologies for the late update! I have managed to survive the end of school, massive computer problems AND the holidaze. Yaaay! I hope you all had a nice Christmas. Unfortunately, nobody bought me the LOTR extended version DVD set. Everyone must have mistaken me for Professor Dumbledore, cuz all I got were warm, thick socks!

Draco's poem is actually "The Web of Eros," by Edith Sitwell, a British poet.

* * *

Chapter Twenty-Six 

"Are you sure I can do this?" I asked my enchanted mirror nervously. I reached out my hand, and it melted into the surface of the glass. I gripped the volume of my grandfather's spells firmly beneath my other arm.

"No worries, Dearie," The mirror said. "Just please be careful."

I drew a deep breath, and stepped through the mirror into a cold, dark room. Torches that lined the stone walls ignited instantly, and the firelight gleamed in hundreds of mirrors of all shapes and sizes. I gazed around in amazement. I had no idea where exactly Professor Dumbledore had created this room, and there were no doors that could lead to the outside. It was a little eerie to be there alone, and seeing my face in the mirrors gave me the impression that I was surrounded by people who were watching me.

The Mirror of Erised wasn't difficult to find. It was magnificent, as high as the ceiling, with an ornate gold frame that stood on two clawed feet. I read the inscription carved around the top: "Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi." I had spent some time wondering what I would see in the mirror. I expected to see my parents, like Harry had. I was quite surprised, then, when I looked into the mirror, and Draco's image appeared.

He smiled and waved. Studying his image closely, I saw that he was quite relaxed and his eyes shone with a certain innocence that I had never seen in them in real life. He was painting a magical portrait. To my amazement, other people joined him in the mirror: my uncle Lucius, my mother and father, Severus, Hermione, Professor Lupin, and even Harry Potter was there with a pretty red-headed woman who had his eyes, and a man with his messy, dark hair. My parents were happily chatting with me. My Uncle Lucius was a famous writer. Professor Snape still worked on his potions, but he looked entirely younger and much more relaxed. He actually turned and smiled at me. Was I seeing everyone else's desires? It took me some time to realize that I was seeing scenes from another world, a world where Voldemort had never existed.

Harry had once told me that he found it extremely difficult to pull away from the Mirror of Erised. Now I knew what he'd meant. I lost all track of time watching my parents' happy faces.

"Excuse me, Miss Silverthorn," A rather dreamy voice said. "I don't mean to interrupt, really I don't. But my twin **is **expecting you."

"Huh?" I looked up, and realized that the mirror was speaking to me.

"It's just that it wouldn't be wise for you to aggravate the Mirror of Emit," the mirror continued. "I'm afraid that your grandfather had a row with it just before he disappeared. I really miss Master Silverthorn. We all do. We felt useful to him. Now Albus Dumbledore has us locked up all the time in this horrid room. I used to be kept in the other rooms of the castle, until that naughty, little boy Harry Potter found me. We're all hoping that you'll become our mistress, and put us to good use again."

"Hear, hear!" A cacophony of voices filled the room as the other mirrors chimed in.

"Thank you," I said, looking down at the cover of my grandfather's book. I had the funny feeling that the mirrors were expecting me to make a speech. "I didn't know my grandfather-"

"He was a wonderful man!" One of the mirrors cried. "A saint!"

"Don't interrupt her!" Another mirror shushed.

"But I hope that I can be as good of a Mirror-Mage as he was. I promise that I will try to do right by you all." I blushed as the mirrors cheered. Who knew that I would end up with mirror-groupies? This could be really good for my ego. "If you don't mind, though, I do have to talk to the Mirror of Emit now."

I pointed my wand at the mirror. "Speculum aperto!" My wand began to glow with a white radiance, reflecting in all the hundreds of mirrors and blinding me. The light hit the Mirror of Erised and turned it to burning gold. I walked through the glass to a dark space. There were no torches there. The darkness and the silence made me pant as if there was no air. I swayed for a moment as I felt the drain of power.

"Lumos," I whispered, and light blossomed from my wand.

The Mirror of Emit looked much like its twin, only it was made from silver. Its inscription read: "Emit ni eur tsemoc erised straehr ouy." How I wished it was true. I would do anything to make those scenes in the Mirror of Erised a reality. Now that I was here, in front of the mirror, I again felt that rush of power, that burning temptation to try and change history. But of course, who knows what I could make happen by attempting to change the past.

Using a spell in the book, I contacted my mother. The spell was such that it could only contact people through other mirrors, and luckily, my mother had a large antiquemirror that she had propped up in the back of her shop in New Orleans. It was a very emotional and difficult conversation. She had been in a great deal of denial about her boyfriend, Karl, but the shock of seeing me from the future immediately convinced her that what I told her was the truth. She would not let me go until I had told her every detail of how my Uncle Lucius had found me.

Before I broke the contact, my mother said, "I want you to get away from that mirror. It's powerful, and dangerous. I'm not sure if even Professor Dumbledore could destroy it. Baby, do you remember the One Ring from Tolkien's novels?"

"Yes," I said.

"Well, Tolkien had this right- when an object has absorbed so much magic, it becomes, well, sentient. It isn't just a tool anymore. It develops a will of its own. Don't use it anymore, do you hear me?"

I nodded, as her image in the glass flickered out. Once she was gone, I argued with myself. I had been dying to speak with my father, at least, to say…something to him. I wasn't sure what.

With another spell, the image of my father wavered in the mirror. He had the same dark blond hair and green eyes that I remembered, only this time his reflection focused on me.

"Daddy?" I said.

When he heard my voice, he started and studied me with a mixture of curiosity and cynicism. "What kind of trick is that old fool Dumbledore attempting to play on me?" He asked. "I thought this mirror was supposed to show me my 'heart's desire,' or some kind of nonsense like that."

"I'm your daughter, Miriel," I said. "I'm from the future. I'm talking to you through the Mirror of Emit."

He stared at me. "I don't have a child."

"You will. Daddy, I'm here at Hogwarts." To my horror, his image wavered in the mirror and began to dim. Contacting my mother must have exhausted me more than I realized. "I just wanted to tell you, that I love you. I've always loved you, even when I didn't know who you were-" I took a deep breath. "I wish you were here. And I love you for what you did to save me. You're my hero. Thank you, Daddy…"

But his image was gone. I remembered what the Headmaster had told me. My father had changed dramatically after looking into the Mirror of Emit, eventually allowing my mother to escape Voldemort. I realized what must have happened. When Professor Dumbledore had made my father look into the Mirror of Emit, my father must have seen me.

"What can I do?" I asked myself, looking into the Mirror of Emit. I looked up once again at the words that lined its frame. "How can I make my heart's desire come true?"

"My dearest Mistress," The mirror said. "You have only to ask. I will grant you whatever you want. My only purpose is to serve you."

I jumped at the voice. Unlike the other mirrors, whose voices at least sounded somewhat human, this voice was utterly alien. It was more of a shiver of crystal or ice that vibrated against my eardrum. The voice held the ineffable, such as mystery, eternity, and time. The voice didn't quite sound… right somehow. I stepped back cautiously.

What did I want? I wanted my parents together. I wanted a childhood with a father who loved me. I wanted my Uncle Lucius to be happy as I had seen him in the Mirror of Erised. My mind swirled with possibilities. "I want Voldemort to be destroyed. Forever," I finally said. I dashed the tears off my cheeks with my hand. "I just don't know how to do it. I'm afraid to change the past. Anything could happen. I could make things worse."

"Then that leaves the future, my beautiful mistress," The mirror responded. "The desire of your grandfather's heart was to travel through time."

"I don't want to do that," I said anxiously. There was something about the hypnotic, crystalline voice that made me uneasy. It seemed to swirl around me, pulling me closer towards it. "But if I could just talk to somebody from the future, maybe I could get some information that would at least save Severus." I chewed my lip, wondering who I could contact. I was tired and drained, but this could very well be my last chance before I'd have to turn my grandfather's book over to Dumbledore and leave Hogwarts.

"Allow me to choose for you," The mirror said. "I am rather an expert at this sort of thing."

Images flashed and blurred on the surface of the glass, and finally stopped on a scene. The mirror was so huge, that it felt as though I was really there.

The elegant restaurant was classic New Orleans: A mirrored dining room, with linen covered tables, bent wood chairs, two-paddle ceiling fans, crystal water decanters, and an enormous pendulum clock. The room was decorated for Christmas, and the colored lights from an enormous tree bounced off the mirrored walls and filled the place with a warm glow.

An elegant man who looked about thirty sat alone at a table. He wore a fine, silk suit, and his hair cascaded like a silvery waterfall down his back. His attention was absorbed in writing something onto a piece of paper. He must have been Christmas shopping, since a bag of brightly wrapped presents sat on a chair besides him. My first thought was that it must be my Uncle Lucius.

"Will Mrs. Malfoy be joining you tonight, sir?" The waiter asked him, filling the customer's goblet with wine. "Our specialty tonight is Shrimp Remoulade, Turtle Soup au Sherry, Poisson Meuniere Amandine, with Banana Bread Pudding."

"My wife is visiting her parents," The man said, looking up from his paper. "And the kids are with -"

There was a crash as the bottle of wine hit the floor. The waiter gaped at me, and I realized with a shock that he could see me in the mirrored wall of the restaurant. I glanced around him, but he and the customer appeared to be alone.

"I, uh, don't think I'm feeling well, Mr. Malfoy," The poor waiter mumbled, wiping his face with his hands. "Must be having a bad reaction to my medication. Yes, that must be it…" He disappeared into the back of the restaurant.

The customer recovered from his surprise remarkably quickly, but it wasn't until mischief flashed in his grey eyes that I recognized him.

"You naughty girl," He said with a very familiar smirk. His voice sounded deeper and richer than I remembered it, with a more mature note to it. "You should know better than to play around with the Mirror of Emit. What are you trying to do? Scare the Muggles and get me into trouble with the Department of American magic?"

"Draco?" I gasped, my mind racing to think coherently. Gazing at his reflection, I stepped closer to the mirror. "It's amazing." Without thinking, I placed my fingers on the silver frame of the Mirror of Emit. "You look so different, so much…"

"Sexier?" He suggested. "More sophisticated? Charming, perhaps?"

Draco obviously hadn't changed that much. It was then that I felt it, a horrible tug at my stomach. I fell with a jolt toward the mirror.

"What's happening?" I said in panic, and shrieked at another tug. I tried to pull my hand off the frame, but it was stuck. The Mirror was sucking me into it, just as it had my grandfather! "Stop it, you stupid mirror!"

Draco reached out his hand, and to my amazement, it passed through the surface of the glass. He gripped my arm.

"What are you doing?" I cried. "I'm trying to get away!"

"It's going to be okay. Stop struggling!" Draco pulled on my arm. It felt like someone was trying to pull me through a tornado. My clothes felt like they were about to be torn from my body, and even my hair came loose and stung my face.

I stumbled, tripping over the base of the mirror. Suddenly, I was there in the restaurant, holding onto Draco for dear life.

"Miriel," he said. "Are you okay?"

"Um." I gazed up at him, drinking in his appearance. An older Draco was definitely an improvement. His body was heavier, his muscles more solid. He must have changed colognes, since he didn't smell like a spicy, rich kid anymore. He just smelled… wonderful.

"Sweetheart, it's really you," He said, smiling in wonder. "You're a teenager again. I've been wondering for years when you'd turn up."

"Where am I?" I asked.

"This is your favorite restaurant," He said. "Galatoire's, on Bourbon Street."

"Galatoire's?" I said in surprise.When I had lived in New Orleans, my favorite restaurant had been a cheap pizza place, since that was all I could afford. "I've never been able to afford this place."

"The older version of you is quite fond of it," Draco said. "Sit down, Miriel. Here, you look like you could use this." He guided me to the chair, and pushed his goblet of wine towards me.

"The older version of me?" I looked around, horrified. "I'm not here, am I?" The one unbreakable rule of time travel was that you were never supposed to meet yourself. Bizarre and dangerous things could happen in that case.

"No. I wonder if you knew you'd be here. That means I have you all to myself this evening." He grasped my hand, and pressed my fingers to his lips. "I am surprised to see you, but very, very pleased."

"Stop that!" I jerked my hand away. "You are a married man. With kids! I heard you tell the waiter that." For some awful reason, I felt a sharp stab of betrayal and disappointment.

Draco laughed, a deep, rich laugh that was full of fondness. "I don't think that my wife would actually mind at all. Wait a moment," he said, glancing toward the back of the restaurant. "I'd better go and obliviate the help before we go. It wouldn't do for anyone to see you here."

As he left the table, I grabbed the goblet of wine and took a huge gulp. All of this was very shocking. How was I going to get back to my time? Did my mother or Professor Dumbledore even know I was gone? Had Voldemort been destroyed by now?

Something on the table caught my eye. It was the paper that Draco had been scribbling on. Picking it up, I saw that it was a Christmas card. He had been writing a poem inside it:

"Within your magic web of hair, lies unfurled

The fire and splendor of the ancient world;

The dire gold of the comet's wind-blown hair;

The songs that turned to gold the evening air

When all the stars of heaven sang for joy.

The flames that burnt the cloud-high city Troy.

The maenad fire of Spring on the cold earth;

The myrrh-lit flame that gave both death and birth.

To the soul Phoenix, and the star-bright shower

That came to Danae in her brazen tower…

Within your magic web of hair, lies unfurled

The fire and splendor of the ancient world."

Draco plucked the card from my hands. "That is a Christmas gift, Miss Snoop."

"That poem, did you write it?" I wondered if it was for his wife, or maybe a mistress. Someone who evidently had beautiful hair!

He nodded, and shrugged into his jacket. "I suppose I've developed many talents since you last knew me."

"It's beautiful," I murmured, looking down into my wine. It was so sensitive, and it even used Muggle references. Perhaps Draco had really changed over the years. He certainly looked more mature and elegant, and there was something about his face that seemed much nicer than when he had been a teenager. I had always liked older men, and to my discomfort, jealousy over the card's recipient began to squirm in my stomach.

"Honestly," Draco said, shaking his head. "You are so ridiculous. Did you see who the card is addressed to?"

I shook my head. "It's none of my business," I said primly.

Draco retrieved an envelope that had been placed to the side, and held it up for me to see. In his elegant script, the envelope read, "To My Beloved Wife, Miriel."

Draco bent down and closing my wide-open mouth with his hand, he kissed me. "Did you really ever think you'd escape marrying me?" He asked with a smile.

* * *

Thank you and a Happy New Year to all my wonderful reviewers! Thank you Badger, Quidditchgal91, ice-princess42 and Dragonfires. 

Escaped: As usual, thanks for all your great compliments! I'm glad you and your computer (oh yes, and car!) are doing well. My story probably wouldn't be so twisty and turny if I'd made a detailed outline and stuck to it. I have to cram so much into it because I don't want to have any loose ends. I'm afraid it's turning into an epic.

Arsinoe de Blassenville: Thank you so much for your review! I didn't realize that Lucius was disguised as Bellatrix until you told me that. He is so sneaky! I read a lot of the essays at Redhen-publications. Com, and they were great. Death to the Weasleys! Heh. I've been having computer problems lately, so I haven't been able to post on your library.

RachelW: Thank you so much for your reviews, and I really liked your story on Ashwinder about Snape, Hermione, and the Japanese ghosts (I haven't gotten to your other stories, yet!) I tried not to make Miriel too Mary-Sueish. I wanted to portray the "nice" side of Lucius Malfoy, and I knew the only way that he would respond to her in such a way would be if she was powerful and pure-blooded. I also needed a reason why she could get to the Mirror of Emit, when many other people couldn't. I think I'll probably need to work on the punctuation in my story before submitting it anywhere else! I took a look at my first couple of chapters, and my commas and periods got pretty wild! I really need to track down a Beta.

Monique: Thank you so much for your review. You are so sweet. I know the frustration of checking the Net every day for an update on my favorite stories. With school out of the way, I have a lot more time to write now!


	28. Chapter Twenty Seven

Author's Note: "The Mirror of My Dreams" has been nominated for a Multifaceted Award in four categories: Love, Intelligence, Identity (original character) and Pride (I guess that's for funny fics). Voting began 01/16/05 and I think it ends 02/28/05. Even if you don't feel like voting, you might like searching the nominee page for good fics. I posted the link on my bio page if you're interested.

* * *

Chapter Twenty Seven 

"I can't believe that you were jealous of yourself," Draco said with a snicker. He grabbed his bag of Christmas gifts, muttered an apology to the head waiter (who appeared dazed and disoriented) and guided me toward the door.

I shot a glare at him. "Yes, well that's almost as bad as being jealous of Remus Lupin!"

To my surprise, he laughed. "Oh, gods, don't remind me of that! I apologized to him about how nasty I was years ago."

"Who are you, and what have you done to Draco?" I asked in astonishment.

"Well," he admitted, "you did make me."

Suddenly, I realized that my hands were empty. "Oh no! I lost my grandfather's book!"

"Don't worry," Draco said. "It's back by the Mirror of Emit. Dumbledore found it after you disappeared." I tried to ask more questions, but he shoved me gently out the door of the restaurant, and towards a silver Lexus parked on the corner. It was evening, and the light from the stores and bars shone down on a blonde figure walking towards us.

"Bloody hell!" Draco tried to push me into the car, but it was too late. The man had seen us. "That man always has rotten timing."

"Miriel, Mirel, Mirel," the man said, approaching the car and flashing dazzlingly white teeth. His deep violet cloak swirled around him as he took my hand and kissed it. A pointed wizard's hat was set at a jaunty angle on his wavy hair. He obviously did not even try to dress as a Muggle, but people could easily get away with outlandish clothing in the French Quarter. The Muggles probably just thought he was some kind of street artist. He must have been at least ten years older than when I had seen his photo in 'The Daily Prophet,' and it took me a few moments to recognize him.

"Gilderoy Lockhart?" I gasped, surprised. What in the world was he doing in New Orleans?

"I know, it's always such a pleasure. You are looking particularly lovely tonight." The man studied me more closely. "Great Scot, have you been testing one of our anti-aging potions? You look ten years younger, you little vixen." He winked. "That stuff must be more powerful than I thought." I noticed that he completely ignored Draco.

"What do you want, Lockhart?" Draco's tone took on a definite chill. "Here for another 'surprise inspection,' are you? Miriel doesn't need you snooping around. She has things at the shop well under control."

"I do?" I asked.

"Of course she does." Lockhart's smile grew even larger, and he refused to let go of my hand. "Miriel is a hard, little worker. Just thought I'd pop on over to the Colonies to spread some Christmas cheer. Do a little P.R. work." He glanced around as if to make sure no one else could hear him. "I do realize I'm not quite as famous among Muggles as I am in the Wizarding world," he whispered. "I'm sure in time, however, they will come to love me as well. I mean, how could they not?"

"Miriel and I were just leaving," Draco said abruptly. He motioned for me to shut the car door. "She deserves time off, especially now that she's expecting." If Draco had fixed that cold glare at me, I would have been looking for some place to hide. Gilderoy Lockhart, however, appeared oblivious.

"Again? Great Scot! What does this make now, number seven? I hope that you two figure out what causes that some day." Lockhart chuckled over his own joke. "Happy Christmas!" He waved cheerfully at me as we drove off. "Look for my photo on the cover of this month's 'Good Housekeeping!"

"He's such an idiot," Draco muttered. "I wish the older version of you would let me hex him. One more good 'obliviate' spell, and he'd be back in St. Mungo's with Pott- er, I mean, he'd never leave St. Mungo's."

"What was that all about?" I asked, a little dazed at the mention of having seven children.

"He's your business partner," Draco informed me grimly. "Since my father helped Severus in the war,my father became quite popular in the public eye. 'The Daily Prophet' hailed him as a hero, and so then you became a celebrity again."

"Severus is okay?" I asked with relief. "He's alive and everything?"

Draco nodded. "Lockhart then not only wanted you to be a spokes-witch for his hair-care potion company, but he offered you a position as his business partner. He needed you to help him cross over into the Muggle world, and as you can guess, he's pretty hopeless around Muggles. You do most of the work, but he takes most of the credit. He just prances around 'supervising' and acting like a silly git. You opened up Muggle shops in New Orleans, New York and London. You sell hair-care potions, and hair ornaments, like 'The Enchantress' in Diagon Alley, but they're not magical, of course."

"I have a shop? Here? Can we go see it?" I bounced in my seat with excitement. Ever since I was a little girl in my mother's shop, I had dreamed of how cool it would be to have one of my own.

"Sweetheart, someone you know will see you," he said. "The place is packed with Christmas shoppers. It's not a good idea. Time travel is highly illegal, you know, and witches come to your shop all the time."

I sighed. "Where are we going, then?"

"I'm taking you home," he said. "I'll have Twinky and Pinky make us some dinner. It's not exactly Galatoire's, but it'll do."

"Pinky?" I giggled.

"She's Twinky's daughter. She only wears pink tea-towels, and she has kind of a pink bow-thingy tied around her ear. Our girls love her."

The sight of Draco driving a Muggle car was almost too much for me, and I stifled a hysterical giggle. He maneuvered the Lexus expertly through the French Quarter traffic. I looked out the car window. The streets looked exactly the same. There was something quite comforting about that.

"You must have loads of questions," my husband said. "Much more important questions than what Gilderoy Lockhart has been up to."

I tried to pick out a question from the endless list that had suddenlypopped into my mind. "It's just that there's no way that I would have married you of my own free will!" I finally blurted. "You were a spoiled, nasty little turd. Your father must have threatened my life to make me marry you."

"Don't you believe that love can change people?" Draco asked quietly. "Dumbledore told you that love changed your father, didn't he? And I was only sixteen. Is it so hard to believe that deep inside I really loved you? I did, you know."

I was stunned for a moment. "You had a funny way of showing it. You were so angry and controlling. Moony tried to tell me that you loved me, but I didn't believe him." I sighed. "I was just starting to really like you, and you ruined the whole thing." I tried to keep the resentment out of my voice. It might have been years for Draco since that episode, but for me, it had been only a couple of hours.

Glancing out the car window, I saw that we were passing beautiful homes in the Garden District, lined with wrought-iron fences and statues of angels.

Draco reached over and held my hand, running his thumb over my wrist. "I didn't have a chance to tell you," he said. "But the time that Severus' potion had turned me into a little kid, were some of the happiest memories I have of childhood. You, Hermione and that little Unicorn made me happy. You really loved me, and Hermione was even nice to me. Returning to my normal age was a big shock. I had just been happy and loved for the first time in a very long time, and I thought I'd lost it forever. When you returned to Hogwarts from the future, you were so kind and loving to me. I didn't deserve it, after I had treated you. It just started to change me is all. I can't say that I changed all at once or anything, but I guess that's when it really began."

"What happened that day?" I asked. "After I got sucked into the mirror?"

"It was around thirteen years ago. It took me awhile to open the bathroom door, but then I found you gone. I told professor Dumbledore about it, and gave him the page from your book I had torn out. He and your mum used the Mirror of Emit to get you back. You informed them about where my Aunt Bellatrix had been holding Severus. You convinced my father to join The Order of the Phoenix…"

"Uncle Lucius? Joined with Dumbledore?" I never would have dreamed that would happen, after that last time I'd talked to my uncle through the communication mirror.

"Both Severus and my father contributed substantially to the downfall of the Dark Lord. Of course, if you read my father's published memoirs, he gives most of the credit to himself." Draco smiled wickedly. "For some 'mysterious' reason, after you returned from your little trip through the mirror you weren't quite so hostile to the idea of marrying me. As a matter of fact, some might say that you were quite eager to do so. I wonder what I could have done to change your mind?"

I was glad that Draco's eyes were fixed on the road, because I blushed furiously. I watched his elegant hands on the steering wheel. Was the older version of me aware that I was here, lusting after her husband? She must be. Wasn't everything I was experiencing right now embedded in her memories?

"Well, didn't I tell you?" I asked.

Draco shook his head. "No, you refused to talk about what happened to you. Dumbledore and your mum gave you a huge lecture, of course. I think you just liked knowing more than I did."

We finally parked in front of a two story mansion, with slender, white columns, tall windows, and lined with delicate wrought-iron fences. Branches of the tall oak trees tangled above us.

"This is the Wizarding part of the Garden District," Draco said. "The Muggles can't see it. The Department of American Magic has very strict rules about where wizards live. You couldn't have a family of six little witches and wizards without Muggles seeing something strange."

"Oh, yeah, six kids," I said weakly. "I've been… busy." I couldn't imagine having so many. "I could barely handle you when the potion turned you into a little boy!"

"We just found out about the seventh one," he said with a smirk. "So really, it's more like six and a quarter. Father always jokes that we must have taken lessons from the Weasleys."

"Ick! That's an image I didn't need in my mind," I said with a grimace. "But why are we here? Why are we living in New Orleans and not in Britain?"

"To get some distance from my parents," Draco said. "You and Mum were not getting along very well in the Manor. Father has mellowed out since the war, but you know he was always a control freak. They hate the fact that we live in a Muggle city, and Mum refuses to visit us here. She insists we have Christmas at the Manor every year. The kids are there, now, waiting for us to join them. I've just been doing some last minute shopping."

The house was much larger on the inside that it was on the outside. It was beautiful, filled with dark, polished furniture, antiques and old mirrors. It looked exactly like the kind of house I had always dreamed of having when I was a little girl. The first thing my eye caught was a family portrait of Draco, the older me, and our tow-headed children. The younger children were definitely having problems standing still. They kept poking each other, and one of the boys was holding Ambrosius!

"My painting instructor painted that one for us," Draco said. "As you can see, you are still as beautiful as you've ever been."

Actually, I thought, the older me looked a bit tired and frazzled.

"Hi, Mama!" A little girl in the painting hopped up and down and waved at me. "Where are my Christmas presents?" Something about her greedy, little face reminded me of Draco.

"Hush, Mirabel," the older me said. "You'll get your gifts when we join the other portraits at Papa Lucius' and 'Cissy's mansion."

"They really are your children!" I told Draco with an astonished laugh. "You don't have Harry Potter locked up in a dungeon, do you?"

"What?"

I smiled. "You used to make a joke, that I'd have cute, little kids who'd look just like you, and you'd be busy torturing Harry Potter in the dungeons."

Draco smiled, a little sadly, I thought. "No. Harry's not in the dungeons. Don't have any dungeons, actually. This **is** America."

"What's wrong," I asked. "What happened to Harry?" I had been so lulled by how happy my future life seemed that I didn't stop to think that not everybody's must have turned out so well.

"Look, our families were really lucky," Draco told me. Your mum and Severus are married, and Severus worked on your grandfather's potion, the one that I tore out of his book when we argued. Sebastian Silverthorn had been researching the cure for Lycanthropy. Severus further developed it until it worked, so there are no more werewolves in Britain.Your parents are happy, we're happy, even bloody Remus Lupin is happy. But there were a lot of casualties in the war. Lots of people that you knew died at the hands of the Dark Lord. Or were driven insane."

"But Harry was supposed to be the hero," I said. "Wasn't that prophecy about him destroying Voldemort?"

"Let's not talk about it," Draco said. "Especially not before dinner. I know you, sweetheart. If you go back to the past knowing everything about the future, you'll stew about it and feel obligated to save people. You can't save everyone. Besides, the more you know, the more likely it is that you could change the course of time. And I, for one, am perfectly happy with the way that things turned out."

"But aren't I caught in a time loop?" I asked him as he continued walking down the hallway. "I didn't think you could change things in a time loop."

"Time travel theory is a pain in the arse," Draco said. "But I'm not taking any chances. The less you know about the war, the better. I'm going to put away these packages, and change into something more comfortable. Would you like to look around a bit before dinner? I'll be right back."

I nodded, but I was troubled that were things he wouldn't tell me. I wondered who didn't survive the war. When Draco had disappeared further down the hall, I walked swiftly through the house, looking for clues about what might have happened during the years I missed. Everywhere I looked, I saw magical paintings. For a moment I felt like I was at Hogwarts. Finally, I called Twinky.

"Oh, Missy," she said, her huge eyes even wider than usual. "You is being from the past. Master Draco and Master Lucius was wondering when you'd show up."

"Yes, and I'd like to know what happened during the war," I told her. "When the Dark Lord was destroyed."

The house-elf squeaked with excitement. "Master Severus can tell Missy much better than Twinky. Master Severus was there!"

"Severus is here?" I asked, surprised.

"In here, Missy!" Twinky immediately led me toward the back of the house, and opened a door. It was a huge painting studio. The room was filled with canvases and half-painted portraits. Cups that were filled with brushes dotted the tables. The paints appeared to be more like potions than mere pigments, and they swirled in glass vials. Some of them were smoking, and smelled as sweet as incense.

"Missy hired a painting master to tutor Master Draco in painting as a wedding gift," Twinky explained. "Master Draco is making much money now."

"They're beautiful," I breathed, looking through the portraits. Then I saw it. It was a portrait of my mother and Severus. Painted in the background was a castle, with a purple and green banner hanging from the tower. It appeared to be the Silverthorn coat of arms. Under the rampant unicorn were the gold letters, "Amor Vincit Omnia."

"Love conquers all," I translated the Latin words into English. "That's not very Slytherin," I told the painted Severus. He was older, but somehow the years only made him appear more distinguished. Now more than ever he reminded me of Heathcliff from 'Wuthering Heights,' or perhaps what the character would have looked like if he had finally been reunited with Catherine and found some measure of peace.

The painted Severus glared at me. "The quotation is trite, but it is accurate. At least in my particular case." He glanced down his long nose at my mother, who beamed at him. She was obviously very much in love.

"I don't understand this," I said, indicating the gold plaque at the bottom of the frame. "It says, 'The Silverthorn Family,' but aren't you supposed to be 'The Snape Family?"

"Severus took my name," the painted version of my mother said. "He hated his father and that side of the family, you know. And our family name would have died out without male heirs." She looked behind her, moving so that I could see a scene in the distance. Under a tree, two little black-haired boys played with a small unicorn.

"How cute!" I said. "I have little brothers?" Maybe witches could have children at an older age than Muggles could. "Are you protecting the unicorns, now, Mama?"

"Oh yes," she said. "I'm very busy. Sr. Angela moved back into the Wizarding world, and she's helped me organize many different charities. Severus and I also continue to work on developing magical mirrors."

I wanted to ask her a million questions, but I stayed with the one that most burned on my mind. "Tell me what happened during the war," I said. "What happened to Harry Potter?"

Severus snorted. "He was weak. That selfish brat could only think of himself…"

Obviously, being married to my mother hadn't made Severus **totally** warm and fuzzy.

"His idiotic, sycophantic, little sidekick almost lost us the war," he bit out.

"You mean Ron Weasley?" I asked.

"The students' weekend excursion to Hogsmead was cancelled," Severus continued. His black eyes glittered with anger. "The headmaster decided that it was too dangerous. Of course, Potter and Weasley were always above following the rules. They snuck off to Hogsmead with Potter's invisibility cloak. They were separated for some reason, and Weasley got himself kidnapped by those who were loyal to the Dark Lord. The Dark Lord, if you remember, had been searching for a chance to hurt one of Potter's friends."

"Oh no!" I drew my breath in sharply. "How awful. What happened to him?" I dreaded the answer. I loathed Ron and his mother, but I would never wish that fate on anybody. I still felt remnants of guilt that I almost cursed him.

"He was tortured, of course," Severus said. "It was impossible to identify his body when it was found on the Hogwart's grounds. The only way we realized it was Weasley was from the letter that Voldemort had left on him. Potter went mental with grief. Somehow he discovered where Voldemort was to meet next, and foolishly went after him. The Headmaster was forced to act against the Dark Lord prematurely to save the brat."

"We had the mirrors that Miranda and I had been working on, that repelled the Unforgivable curses," Severus continued. "The Ministry of Magic had also formulated a potion that would remove the Dark Mark. With these tools, Lucius and I managed to get many of the Death Eaters on our side against the Dark Lord. But the Headmaster called the Order into action to save Potter, and we were not quite prepared. Some of the mirrors needed more testing. Not all of them worked. There were a lot of casualties. Yes, Potter destroyed the Dark Lord, but there were many more casualties than there could have been. Dumbledore…" Here, the painted Severus' voice grew hoarse, and his eyes glittered wetly. "Moody, Shacklebolt, Diggle, Tonks…"

"Harry Potter," my mother added, "ended up in at St. Mungo's, in the psychiatric ward. It was just too much for him to take. He had a horrific childhood, you know, being locked in a cupboard all those years. And then Sirius Black died…"

"Poor Harry," I said. "He's just like Frodo in 'The Lord of The Rings.' He saved the Wizarding world, but not for himself."

"You and your mother have an extremely annoying habit of comparing everything to that damned novel!" Severus tried to look down his nose at me, but it was difficult to do so as I was standing outside the painting. "This is not some ridiculous, Muggle fantasy story. This is reality. Many of us have had 'horrific childhoods," Severus snapped at my mother. "And we still managed to carry on and perform our duties without acting like spoiled, selfish children!" Severus left the painting in a huff, his black robes billowing behind him.

"Sorry," my mother said, sighing. "He **is **one to hold grudges." She looked at a point over my shoulder. "Oh, hello Draco."

* * *

Many thanks to my reviewers! Thank you, ice-princess42! 

Arsinoe de Blassenville: Thank you for you review! I have never actually been to Galatoire's, but I faked it for my story. Thanks again for all the encouragement and great ideas you've given me.

MoonJasmine: Yes, I think Draco has mellowed out some. The love of a good woman, you know. (heh) School is finally over, and now I have a lot more time to write. Now I just need a job to pay off all my student loans! I'm hoping I can get a job where I pretend to work, but really just write fan fiction! (Yeah, right!) I remember reading an article about JK Rowling where she worked as a secretary, but got fired because she kept writing stories on her computer. My role model! HA!

Escaped: Thanks for your (as usual) great review! Yeah, I tried to have kind of a theme for the story. Something like 'the power of love' (without sounding like a song by "air supply!" You know that I'm a sucker for happy endings (which is why I love Jane Austen so much) and Sevvy has to be happy. I'm not much for Angsty fics.

Harrypotterfan2604: Thanks so much for reading my story and reviewing! I'm glad you liked it. I haven't checked the books, but I thought that Professor Dumbledore only moved the mirror of Erised after Harry found it. I hope I didn't goof up. Oh well, after "HP And The Half Blood Prince" comes out, I guess this story will be AU anyway. Thanks again for reading!

Bulletproof Dork: Thank you for reading my story, too! I tried to make the characters multifaceted, because I was tired of reading clichéd stories that had no surprises. It's nice of you to plow through all 26 chapters!

Sophierom: What a nice review! Thanks a lot. Yes, I haven't read any of my chapters since posting them, and I probably have tons of mistakes! I wish I had a beta. I'm planning to clean up the grammar soon.


	29. Chapter Twenty Eight

Author's Note: Curse writer's block and evil computer trojans! Although this chapter has a lot of fluff in it, it was a difficult chapter for me to write. For further details, see my published works. Er, I meant my new Live Journal (which is posted on my bio under "homepage"). I've changed my e-mail on FFNet, but I still use the old one, BTW.

The reference to fairy dust making Mirabel fly is, of course, from the movie, "Peter Pan," where Jason Isaacs plays the groovy-licious Captain Hook.

Everybody needs to read Arsinoe de Blassenville'sfunny, new fic on FFNet about some women who travel back through time to have tea with Colonel Tavington.

* * *

Chapter Twenty-Eight

For a moment Draco looked much as he had when he was younger, and about to lose his temper. His silvery eyes narrowed. His lips clenched tightly, and his cheeks flushed pink. "There is that Muggle saying," he bit out, "about curiosity killing the cat."

"You told me to look around," I said, trying to look as innocent as I could. I glanced at the portrait of my mother. My real mother might have stood up for me, but obviously the painted version didn't feel so confident. "I think I'll leave you two alone," she murmured, and slid out of view.

"And you just 'accidentally' managed to find the only portrait in this house that would tell you details about the war," Draco continued. "That's the problem with people in Wizarding paintings. They hold the same memories and emotions of their live models, but they don't always use the same good judgment. The real Severus would never have told you anything. He would have known how dangerous your knowledge of future events would have been…"

"You can't blame me for being curious," I said.

Draco took a deep breath, as if to steady himself. "Bloody hell. I don't know what to do about you now."

"What do you mean by that?" I asked suspiciously.

"If you knew about Potter and Weasley, why didn't you change things?" Draco scrubbed his face with his hands. "Honestly, you can be so pig-headed sometimes. Whatever I tell you not to do, you just run off and do as fast as possible. You've always been like that."

"Well, excuse me for not being a doormat," I said, my voice rising with indignation. Something told me that this must be one of the arguments we had regularly as a married couple. "I wanted to know what happened. I just can't believe that happened to Ron! And poor Harry! And Dumbledore was killed, too…" To my horror, I realized that I would have to go back to the past, and live all these events.

"Sweetheart, please don't do anything stupid," Draco said. "Don't do anything to change the past, would you please? Any little thing you do could change everything. One wrong move could destroy the life we have now. The Dark Lord could win the war, our parents could die, or we might not marry..."

"How could I be happy, knowing that it was at the cost of other people's lives?" I said miserably. "I'm responsible for changing things, now that I know about it. I couldn't stand not warning Harry and Ron about the Death Eaters in Hogsmead."

"I was afraid you'd say that," Draco said with a sigh. He stepped toward me. I started, but he merely gathered me into his arms and held me close. "Sweetheart, people weren't meant to know the future," he murmured into my ear. "How could anyone live their lives if they knew what was coming? Dumbledore would be the first one to tell you that. You know, when I returned to my normal age after that potions accident, I was upset. Dumbledore told me that it was unnatural for people to live in the past. It would have been wrong for me to stay that way without ever growing up, no matter how happy I was. It would be wrong for you to obsess about the future, feeling responsible for other people's lives. What if you saved Potter and Weasley, but other people were killed as a result? You couldn't live with that responsibility."

"I'm sorry," I said miserably, but I doubt he could hear me with my face pressed into his chest. "I wish I hadn't have found out. I wish I could have found another-"

Then he was gently kissing me. I opened my mouth and felt the soft sensual brush of his tongue. My knees gave way and I clung to his shoulders for support. He shifted oddly, as if he were pulling something from inside his shirt. I couldn't imagine why, but I didn't care. His kiss was so soft, so engrossing, I didn't much care to notice anything else.

He pulled me even more tightly to him, his hand delving into my hair, and my mouth wandered down from his mouth to his cheek and then to his neck. As I nibbled his skin, he moaned with pleasure. It was then I felt it- a brush of cool, polished wood against my cheek.

"Obliviate," Draco whispered.

I was floating…on what felt like piles of lush, slippery silk. I opened my eyes just enough to see that the silk was deep green and violet. I must have been dreaming. Turning my face up, I saw waves of green and violet tiffany, shot through with gold thread, flowing down from the canopy above me. Some lamps were turned on in the room. The colored light that wavered on my skin gave me the strange impression that I was underwater.

"You always look like a mermaid in this bed," a voice said quietly. "Like the ones on the Mardi Gras floats." Draco sat next to me and took my hand in his. He wore a robe, and his hair was damp as if he had just taken a shower.

"What happened?" I asked groggily. "Where am I?"

"I kissed you, and you fainted. I like to think of myself as a good kisser, but I never dreamt I was that incredible." He smiled, but his eyes were tense for a moment. "You've been sleeping a bit. What exactly do you remember?"

Slowly it came back to me. "We ran into Gilderoy Lockhart on Bourbon Street, and then we drove here. I was looking around the house…" I had been looking for something. What was it I had been looking for? "That's all. I certainly don't remember you kissing me." My eyes fell involuntarily to his mouth.

Draco nodded with an almost satisfied air. "You must have been absolutely exhausted." He edged closer to me on the bed, and stroked the hair back out of my face. "All that power that went into the Mirror of Emit must have drained you, poor thing."

Something nagged at me from a corner of my mind, but the touch of Draco's hand brushed it away. I closed my eyes against the caress. I could definitely get used to this. To keep myself awake, I wriggled to an upright position, and looked around with wide eyes. "This is your, um, our…"

"Our bedroom, yes," Draco said, smiling in amusement. He brushed aside a curtain of silk so I could see more of the room. "You don't recognize the décor? The bed in your favorite Mardi Gras colors, a fireplace and the entire wall covered in bookshelves? You thought this room terribly romantic. You're the only person I know who thinks that books are sexy."

I nodded, but had a hard time not staring at his mouth. "What's with the canopy, and all the bed drapes?"

"We can pull them around the bed if we want a little more privacy." At my look of puzzlement, he continued with a smile. "We broke the older kids' habit of barging in on us at night, but Mirabel's too small to get it. She gets scared, you see, and… are you alright, Sweetheart?"

I felt my face flush. There was something extremely intimate in sitting here on the bed with Draco, and having him discuss our sex life! For some annoying reason, my mouth went dry.

"You look like you might like to try it again," Draco told me with a smirk. "Without fainting this time."

"Sorry?" I squeaked.

"Kissing. You are in a bed right now, so it would be perfectly safe… if you should find it overwhelming." He edged even closer to me. His eyes seemed to drink in my appearance.

"Aren't you tired of kissing me?" I said the first silly thing that popped into my mind. My heart raced, and I wasn't sure if it was from nervousness or excitement. "I mean, you've been kissing me for what- thirteen or fourteen years now? You must be sick of it by now."

Draco laughed. "But it's all new for you. And you know what the best part is, don't you?"

I shook my head.

Draco leaned against me, his hand sliding through my hair. His lips brushed my ear as he whispered, "I know quite well all the places you liked to be kissed."

And he did.

One of the most luxurious experiences in life, I discovered, was to wake tired but sated, cocooned in the warmth of a human body on one side and the warmth of a fireplace on the other. I was vaguely aware of the house elves stoking the fire, and leaving us breakfast on the night table. I smelled the rich aroma of coffee, but I couldn't even seem to move to get any. I stretched cautiously, feeling out the pleasurable aches I'd acquired overnight, and the fingers lying casually on my hip tightened briefly before Draco's arm slid across my belly and pulled me back to him.

"As delightful as this is," he murmured huskily into my ear, "we can't stay in bed forever. My parents are expecting me at the manor this morning. I'm already running late as it is. Aren't you hungry for breakfast? For some reason, I seem to have distracted you from eating last night."

I groaned and buried my face in the pillow. "You must have really liked this," I said, my voice clotted with the little sleep I had managed to get. "It must have been like you were cheating on me with a younger woman. You seemed awfully sure of yourself last night." I should have played hard to get.

"Well, you obviously weren't a virgin when we got married," he told me, brushing my hair aside and running kisses along the nape of my neck. I could feel him smiling. "Let me see, from the time that Severus used your virgin's blood for his potion, until you went through the mirror, you had very limited contact with men. It could have been Lupin, of course. Or Severus, Hagrid, Dumbledore…"

"Ugh!" I hit him with a pillow. "Stop it. You're just being disgusting."

Suddenly the room was filled with a delicate, chiming sound.

"The Floo bell," Draco told me with a sigh. "Somebody's here, probably from the manor to nag me about showing up." He raised himself up on an elbow and studied me. "I wonder when you're supposed to leave, when Dumbledore will call you back. I wonder if I should take you to the Manor with me. I can't very well leave you here alone. You might go snooping around."

"I do not snoop!" I said indignantly. "I never snoop."

Draco raised an eyebrow and snickered.

"I don't want to leave," I said with a sigh. "I don't want to go back to Hogwarts. Everything is such a mess there. I'll have to leave Hogwarts, and live in the same house as that Molly Weasley. It's going to be such a drag. I want to stay here with you." The knowledge struck me hard, as I lay watching Draco, that I was desperately in love with him.

"You silly girl," he said, "I'm there, too, in the past."

"Not like this," I said. "Here you're mature, and nice, and-"

"Don't be so naïve, Darling," he said. "You know the old saying. You can take the boy out of Slytherin…"

"What?"

"But you can't take the Slytherin out of the boy." Something flashed in his eyes, but then it was gone.

"What are you talking about?" I asked, exasperated. I still felt that something wasn't quite right.

He shook his head. "Nothing. I am the same person in your time, albeit less mature. I was extremely frightened, and insecure. All I knew how to do was lash out. Before you, I don't think I ever felt love. I'm not really sure- "Here his voice grew rough, and he swallowed. "I'm not really sure that I really knew what it was. You and the kids mean everything to me."

I threw myself on top of him, and wrapped my arms around his neck. "I can't leave you! Why can't the older me go back instead?" The image popped into my mind. What would my mother say if I returned to Hogwarts, older and pregnant? I grinned a little in spite of myself.

Just then the bedroom door flew open with a crash, and someoneran to the bed in a rush. "Father," started a boy's voice.

Draco hurriedly pushed me off him. "Er, wait a minute, Gaius."

Gaius? Luckily, the veils of silk hid me partially from view. Just to be on the safe side, I dove under the covers.

"Father," the boy continued. "Mother just called Grandfather Lucius through the mirror. She says she's not coming to the Manor, that she's staying at the Silverthorn castle for Christmas. What's going on? She said that you'd understand. Grandfather Lucius is quite upset about it. I heardthe boy grabbed the silk veils and pulled them back from the bed with a jerk. "What are you still doing in bed?"

There was a thick silence. "You have someone here," the boy finally said, his voice strained. "Don't you?" He looked to be only about twelve years old, but obviously he knew what was going on.

"Son, I can explain," Draco said.

"You…bastard!" Gaius bit out. "I can't believe you'd bring some slut here, in Mother's bed. No wonder Mother won't come to the Manor. She's hiding from **you**."

"Put away your wand," Draco said sternly, "Immediately. There's a perfectly good explan-"

"I won't let you dishonor her like this!" Gaius' hissed.

I couldn't stand it anymore. I sat up, and poked my head out of the covers. "Hi."

Gaius gazed at me with wide, green eyes. "Mama?" His wand, which had been pointed toward Draco, lowered slowly. He shifted uncertainly, and ran his fingers through his dark blonde hair. He was obviously attending Hogwarts, as his black cloak had the "Slytherin" insignia embroidered on the pocket. "How can you be here, and at Silverthorn castle at the same time?"

"It's a long story, Son," Draco told him. "Give us some privacy to get dressed, and I'll tell you all about it."

After Gaius left the room, I turned to Draco. "He looks just like my father," I told him, my eyes tearing up. After just having spoken to my father in the Mirror of Emit, I was still quite emotional about it.

"Don't worry, Sweetheart," Draco said, kissing me. "You'll see Gaius again, too." He rapidly got dressed and left the room.

With a sigh I took a long drink of the creamy coffee I had missed so much since I left New Orleans. There was fried ham, creamy grits and eggs. To my delight, Twinky and Pinky had learned to make beignets, the little French doughnuts they served at the Café Du Monde.

When I was fed and decently dressed, I finally saw Gaius again. He stared at me curiously. "Are you spending Christmas with us?"

"I don't really know," I admitted. I looked at Draco in confusion.

"Obviously the older version of you believes you will," he told me. He led Gaius and me to the Floo room, where all the gifts were waiting to be taken to Malfoy Manor.

"Malfoy Manor," Gaius said in a loud voice. He certainly was a confident young man. He tossed the silvery powder into the fireplace, and we disappeared into a swirl of emerald flames.

When we arrived at the Manor, house elves were already there to greet us. "Please don't tell my parents we're here," Draco told the house elf. "We want to surprise them."

I had forgotten how impressive Malfoy Manor could be. The placewas certainly decked out for Christmas. I had never seen Wizarding decorations, and the place glowed with golden wreaths, fairy lights, andthousands of floating candles. The white walls of the Manor glittered even more than I remembered. The air was heavy with a rich scent of spices and mulberry, as if the house elves must have been busy baking in the kitchens. Lively and delicate dulcimer music floated magically on the air.

Soon Draco and I stood in the doorway to a room, and the cozy scene was one that I had never imagined in my wildest dreams. My Uncle Lucius and his wife were surrounded by children, the children I had seen in the painting. They were snooping around underan enormous Christmas tree, and begging their grandparents to let them open their gifts prematurely.

Draco whispered to me, "Father spoils them all rotten, of course, especially Mirabel."

My uncle sat in an overstuffed leather chair. A tiny witch perched on his knee, her fluffy, silver-blonde hair pulled up into a bow. In the painting, she had been cute. In real life, she was adorable. For a moment, I thought a little hysterically, she looked like the little Who-girl in 'How the Grinch Stole Christmas.' Only my Uncle Lucius did not look like a Grinch. He smiled down on Mirabel quite fondly. He had aged quite gracefully. He still had the long silvery hair, the aristocratic nose, and the sneer that hovered dangerously around his sculptured lips.

"Daddy says we can't wear real fairies in our hair," an older girl was telling him with a pout. "Because of the Muggles."

"But you live in New Orleans, my Dear," my uncle Lucius said with a sniff. "If the Muggles should happen to spot anything magical, they would merely think that they were in a drunken stupor." At this, he shot a dirty look at his wife. "Aren't you starting on the Yule punch a little early in the day?"

Mrs. Malfoy ignored him. She took a sip from her goblet and addressed the children. Her words were belligerent and a bit slurred. "I cannot believe that your mother wishes to deprive you of the many pleasures of a Wizarding childhood by forcing you to live in a city full of filthy Muggles," she said. "At least while you stay with us, you can enjoy some of our Yule traditions." She made a motion with her hand, and a house elf, dressed in a festive tea-towel, open a large box. Hundreds of winged fairies flew out of it, their iridescent wings shimmering. They flew toward the Christmas tree, and lit up the branches.

"Oh, pretty!" Mirabel clapped her hands. "I do believe in fairies! I do! I do!"

A tiny fairy dressed in green glowed brightly, and lit on the child's nose, sprinkling sparks of fairy dust all over her upturned face.

"Now I can fly. You are a bad man, Captain Hook." She brandished an imaginary sword at my Uncle Lucius. "You'll never catch me." She then hopped up on the arm of the chair and jumped into the air, only to have my Uncle Lucius catch her before she landed with a splat on the floor.

"Merciful Merlin!" Mrs. Malfoy pressed her hand to her chest. "Wherever do you get those bizarre ideas? Ever since you moved away…"

"I miss living here with you, Papa Lucius," Mirabel said, tugging his hair and batting her eyelashes at him. "I don't like our house in America. It isn't all sparkly and white like your castle. And it doesn't have a beautiful garden, a Jacuzzi, a unicorn tapestry that talks… " She continued her litany of how her new house was inferior.

"Little traitor," Draco muttered next to me. Gaius glanced at me, and I could tell from the look on his face that he, too, had missed the manor.

"And I hate those nasty Muggles!" Mirabel finished with a dramatic grimace.

"Now can you see why we moved?" Draco asked me. He walked into the room and swept the tiny witch up in his arms. "You fickle little thing," he said, holding her above his head. "Since you hate Muggles so much, maybe we'd better get rid of your DVD player and all your Muggle movies."

At this, the children all looked toward Uncle Lucius, as if expecting some kind of argument to begin.

"No, Daddy!" The girl squealed. "Not my movies!"

"Where's mother?" One of the boys asked. "Why isn't she coming?"

"There you are. Have you talked to your wife?" Mrs. Malfoy asked Draco. "The absolute nerve of her, refusing to attend the holidays with her children. What kind of mother is she?"

"She **is **here, actually," Draco said tersely.

"Mama!" Mirabel obviously spotted me and wriggled to be let down. Draco deposited her into my arms. The younger children ran to me, chattering wildly, but the older ones were a little more hesitant. They studied my face, realizing that I was different somehow.

I, in turn, studied them. These were **my** children. I watched their faces in fascination, noting the blend of Draco and myself in their features.

I noticed that Draco did not hug his mother in welcome. Instead, he bent and whispered something into his father's ear.

Apredatory look of interest crossed my uncle's features.

"Children," he announced, "I have some business with your mother I must attend to. I'll be back shortly."

* * *

Thanks to everybody for reviewing and being so patient! Thanks to Moonjasmine and Sophierom

Arsinoe de Blassenville: Thanks so much for your review. Yes, I think that having the Malfoys as in-laws would be a bit daunting!

Linthilde: Wow- thanks for your enthusiastic review! I really appreciate it. I get pretty careless with grammar and punctuation here on FFNet, I guess I just have so much fun I lose my head! I am in the process of becoming my own grammar nazi. It helped me when I started posting this story on "Pureblood," where the moderators point out all my mistakes (and make me fix them!) before they let me post.

Escaped: I thought that would make you happy to see Ron die a tragic death. Ha! But you never know, Miriel might be able to change things. Thanks for your compliments about my writing. I've really been struggling with this chapter a lot. Hope you are doing okay, BTW.

Dragonfires: I've never been to Galatoires, but it sounds wonderful. Here in Arkansas their idea of seafood is catfish, and I haven't had any real seafood in quite a while. I'm thinking about going to New Orleans to get my doctorate at Tulane. Might be expensive to live there, though, but the food is great. Anyway, thanks for your nice reviews!


	30. Chapter Twenty Nine

Author's Note: Sorry for the slow updates. I think I have things planned out in detail now, and they should be coming faster. Thanks to Arsinoe de Blassenville for her upcoming ideas about the Dark Lord and the Mirror of Erised.

This chapter was inspired by my sister. She was a little like Mirabel when she was little. When we lived in California we'd go to the beach, andthere was a huge ceramic whale with a glass eye. She thought it was a real whale, and every trip she'd cry until she got to touch its eye. Kids really can be weird :-)

* * *

Chapter Twenty-Nine 

"How fascinating." My uncle gazed at me in wonder, his fingers touching my cheek. "My dear, I've been waiting years for this. I'm sure we have much to discuss. Why don't we talk in my office?"

I glanced at Draco, but he appeared to have been expecting this.

"I wanna go, too, Mama," Mirabel whispered excitedly, tickling my ear with her breath. "I want to see the bad house-elf, Dobby."

"Dobby?" I asked. "What do you mean, Sweetie?"

"He's in Papa Lucius' office. Gaius says so."

Surely the children must be making up stories. I began to follow my uncle down the hall. The last time we had 'talked' in his office, he had terrified me with his temper tantrum against Professor Dumbledore. It was not a good memory. I couldn't help but wonder what he was up to. I hoped he wouldn't try to convince me to change the past in some way. Mirabel must have sensed my anxiety, because she wrapped her arms tightly around my neck.

"Aren't you just the sweetest thing?" I kissed the tiny witch, nuzzling her fluffy, silky hair. "You even smell sweet, like…some kind of fruit?"

"Your worthless 'business partner' sends gift packages to the children every Christmas," Uncle Lucius told me with a roll of his eyes. He turned to Mirabel. "What ridiculous food item are you supposed to smell like this year?"

"Lemon drops!" She said. "That's Muggle candy."

A scowl settled on my uncle's face. Evidently, he still held grudges, even after all these years.

"I like Mr. Lockhart," she said, wrinkling her nose in a cute way. "He's funny." She looked down the hallway towards the office door. "Can I see Dobby, Papa? Please? I'm old enough."

"You already know the answer to that," my uncle said. "The younger children are never allowed anywhere near my office," he explained to me, stopping near the door. "I wish to speak to your mother _alone_," he told Mirabel. He attempted to pry her loose from me, but was unable to do so. It took me a moment to realize that she must be using magic, because she stuck to me like Velcro. She giggled.

"You will stop this immediately," he commanded her sternly.

Mirabel's little face puckered into a pout, but she slid reluctantly to the floor, holding her hands behind her as if hiding something. Uncle Lucius gave her a gentle shove towards the way we came, before we entered his office.

To my surprise, there had been additions to his office décor since the last time I had seen it. The place was filled with mirrors. They filled the place with light and made it look much bigger than it was. A large, oval mirror hung on the wall and there were many smaller ones as well. Among the mirrors was a…

"Ugh," I said. "What is that thing?" It looked like a shrunken head. A closer look showed me that the head belonged to a house-elf. Its glassy eyes bulged, and its lips curled back in terror.

"Don't you like it?" He asked, with an amused lift of his brow. "I had the little bastard hunted down, soon after the attack on our home. I'm sure he regretted betraying my family before the end." My uncle sat at his desk, and pulled out what looked to be a richly carved wooden box. He placed the box before him, and unlocked it with a spell.

"It was terrible," I said, "seeing the Dark Mark over the Manor. I thought I had lost you."

"You must have been quite upset, to attempt to curse that Weasley boy." He sighed. "I did appreciate that sentiment, my dear. It was probably just as well your attempt was foiled, however, since…" Here, my uncle hesitated.

"Since what?" I asked, hoping he would tell me something important.

"It won't do to discuss what happened during the war." My uncle then changed the subject. "I have often been disappointed over the years, my dear, with your consistent refusal to be trained in the Dark Arts. But luckily, your son has inherited your great power, and he is not as reluctant."

"Gaius?" I asked.

He nodded. "In a way, you could say that I have found my brother again. Would you like to see what he made for me? He made several of those mirrors on the wall, but that one is my favorite." He motioned me to move closer to it, and I saw that the mirror had an ugly, gargoyle-like face carved into its frame. Its glass was black. An uneasy feeling squirmed in my stomach. I suddenly remembered how my mother had served the Dark Lord.

I didn't know what to say to this, so I just said, "Are you happy, Uncle Lucius? Are you, um, still mad at Professor Dumbledore and my mother?"

He gazed at me with those silvery eyes, and I once again had the impression that he was searching my thoughts. "What you really want to know is if I desire to become another Dark Lord. Or if I have already been moving in that direction..."

We were interrupted by a sharp tapping sound.

"Alohomora! Alohomora!" Mirabel's muffled voice could be heard on the other side of the door. "Open up, you stupid door!"

A look of exasperation crossed my uncle's face.

I heard a click, and the door swung open a crack. I opened it completely to find Mirabel hitting it with…

"My wand!" I said. "How did you get that?" My hands patted my empty pocket, before I took the wand from her. "You little kleptomaniac." Thank goodness Adamant was unbreakable. The door, unfortunately, had been scratched up a bit.

"I did it, Mama, I made a spell. It's just like 'Bedknobs and Broomsticks!" She squealed. Her eyes grew large as she gazed around the room at all the mirrors, books and magical instruments. A wicked little smile spread across her face, as if she was already planning on what mischief to get into. Her mouth dropped open when she saw Dobby's head on the wall. "Can I touch his eyeball?" she asked.

"Get that child out of here!" My uncle snarled. "Immediately."

Her little face puckered up again, but this time she wailed as if we were murdering her.

The black mirror on the wall shattered.

My uncle whipped his wand out. "Silentium!"

Nothing came out of Mirabel's mouth. She gaped for a moment like a fish out of water.

"That is why none of your brood is allowed in here," my uncle said. "Your children are a pack of manipulative, sneaky little savages." He glared at me as if it was my fault.

"Don't look at me," I told him. "I just got here."

He turned to Mirabel. "You are being very naughty." His eyes turned to gray ice. "What happens to naughty…little…witches?"

"You can't stick me in the dungeons," I heard her whisper. "I'm only three years old!" She held up two fingers.

I gasped and looked at my uncle in horror. "Don't you dare touch her! I can't believe you. I thought that maybe you had changed." All the memories of how he had treated Draco flooded into my mind.

"That is a story from the past that the children heard," Uncle Lucius told me, "and I merely use it to my advantage." He stood, and with a spell and a wave of his wand, he repaired the shattered mirror.

"Believe it or not," he continued. "I do regret some…actions that I took in the past. My service to the Dark Lord did not bring out the best in me as a father. Or as a husband, evidently."

I thought of Narcissa and her apparent alcoholism. "Well, I suppose it was stressful, for both of you."

He scooped Mirabel up and tucked her under his arm like a football. "Let me deal with this…distraction. Wait here."

"Save me, Mama!" The little witch whispered dramatically as my uncle carried her down the hallway. I watched them until I realized with relief that they were merely headed down to the family room where all the other children were.

"Hey, you," a voice said. "Over here."

Startled, I looked around the office, wondering where the voice came from. There, in the large oval mirror, was an older reflection of myself.

"Having fun with my husband?" she asked with a smirk.

Did my voice really sound like that? I blushed. "Well you should know!" I told her, feeling extremely uncomfortable. "I mean, hasn't all this happened to you before?"

"Yes, and it's very strange to see you, being where I was before," she said. "I'm at Silverthorn castle. Mama and Severus don't know that I'm using this mirror. I've been torturing myself about whether or not to talk to you."

"You mean, you didn't do this before?" All of this was too eerie, to see a reflection of myself in a mirror that moved and talked of its own accord. "I thought you could only do what has already been done. Isn't that the way it is in a time loop?"

The older version of myself shook her head. "I've been studying time a lot. I've even read a lot of research that Grandfather did. Time isn't set in stone. As a matter of fact, Grandfather believed that time is more of a web. He believed that with each choice a person makes, the current of time breaks off and creates another reality. He believed that there are millions of parallel realities, with different outcomes."

The thought was quite overwhelming.

"I only have a moment before Uncle Lucius gets back," she told me.

"Is he going to try and get me to change the past?" I asked.

"He's sending a letter back in time with you to Professor Dumbledore. The headmaster would never have been able to rescue Severus without his instructions." A strange look crossed her face, one that I couldn't identify. "Everything's going to be okay. You know that, don't you? You will survive everything, even if it **is** scary."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" I asked.

"That box on Uncle Lucius' desk- open it."

I lifted the heavily carved lid, to find rows of brilliantly colored potions in crystal vials. The liquids shimmered and swirled in jeweled tones, even emitting a kind of radiance. Leaning over them, Ithought I hearda faint humming.

"They're beautiful," I said. "It's like they're alive."

"The ones on the leftare the healing potions that Mother and Severus have developed, made with unicorn blood. Find the blue one, with PTSD on the label."

"Blue one…" I muttered, searching the labels. "I found it." Amazingly enough, when I plucked out the vial from the box, another one instantly replaced it. "What do you want me to do with it?"

"It's for Harry Potter," the older version of myself said. "I don't have the nerve to change things too much. I wish I could save everybody. But I can help Harry, at leasta little. I can't bear the thought of him in-" here she faltered. "You, know, I suspect that Draco obliviated me, er, you when you arrived at New Orleans."

"What?" My mouth fell open. "That jerk!"

"I think I discovered something that I wasn't supposed to know. I can guess now what it was. Post traumatic stress disorder means that the person has suffered trauma but for some reason wasn't able to process the emotions. The trauma was too deep and overwhelming. This is a potion that can help heal years of deep and severe trauma. It hasn't worked on Harry in the present, and the mediwitches believe that he needed the potion right after the major trauma. Don't tell anybody about the potion. For heaven's sake, don't tell Professor Dumbledore about it. Keep it until Harry needs it."

"But how will I know when he needs it?" I asked.

"Believe me, you'll know," she said grimly.

"But-" I started, but then the door opened and my uncle walked in. I glanced back at the mirror but the reflection had vanished. I shoved the vial of potion into one of my pockets.

"Now where was I?" My uncle sat once again at his desk. "Ah, yes. To your question as to whether or not I am 'happy.' I admit that it was very difficult to let go of power. Even as I saw the Dark Lord fell, part of me was grief-stricken. I saw so many of my old dreams go up in smoke. My dreams of glory, of perhaps sharing in the Dark Lord's immortality…were gone. But now, I am not without consolations."

"You wanted to be immortal?" I asked, surprised. For some reason, that had never occurred to me.

"Immortality is such an alluring concept don't you think? Ultimate power, and never ending life to use it in. You don't have to look at me like that, my dear. The magical transformations that the Dark Lord endured to attain immortality made him quite insane in the end. I have no desire to follow in those particular footsteps. As you become older, you realize that your immortality lies in your descendants."

He looked down at a small picture frame on his desk, and I saw that it was a Wizarding photograph of all the children.

"The Dark Lord had no family, you know," my uncle continued. "He was raised in an orphanage during the Muggle war. The children used to fight each other for food rations every day. Dreadful place. He never had a concept of family, never gave a thought to his lineage continuing. He certainly never respected my duty towards my family."

"I saw my father in the mirror," I told him. "He was looking into the Mirror of Erised, and saw me looking at him through the Mirror of Emit."

"I know," he said. "You told me that years ago. At the time your father allowed Miranda to escape the Dark Lord, I didn't understand how he could be so foolish. I've come to believe that my brother made a very wise decision, trading his life for one so precious. And I do not mean your mother."

It took me a long moment to realize what he had just said. "That's the nicest thing you've ever said to me."

My uncle smiled, and taking out a piece of parchment and a quill, he began writing.

"Is that my letter for Professor Dumbledore?" I asked him, without thinking. When my uncle stopped writing to look at me, I added, "I mean, I'm assuming it's for him. Who else would you be writing to?"

"What an astute observation," My uncle told me dryly. He glanced at the large oval mirror on the wall.

"What are you telling him?"

"I am telling the esteemed Headmaster, in essence, that I have won. The Malfoy line has been strengthened and purified, and will continue. My grandchildren are very powerful witches and wizards. I have gained the public's approval and have become a well respected author. There has even been a rumor that I may be nominated for the Minister of Magic. Succinctly put, I have not only survived the war, but I've flourished. And that old fool has not."

"I'm not going to give him that letter!" I said, gasping with indignation. "That's horrible."

"Oh yes, you will, because I am also informing him how he is to get Severus released from Bellatrix's gentle hands. As well as how he will ultimately win the war." Uncle Lucius finished his letter, and sealed it with an enchantment. "Do not open this letter," he warned, "and do not allow anyone else but Dumbledore to open it. It would not be a pretty sight." He made a motion with his hand to indicate Dobby's head on the wall.

I nodded with a grimace. Honestly, dark wizards could be so suspicious.

"The Department of American Magic built a Wizarding prison off the shore of San Francisco. Much like Azkaban. It has since been declared inhumane, and was abandoned quite some time ago."

"You mean Alcatraz?" I asked. "But Muggles go there all the time. They have tours and stuff."

"That is merely the prop that was used to distract the Muggles from the real Alcatraz. Severus was there, and was heavily guarded by Dementors."

"How horrible," I said. "How will Professor Dumbledore rescue him?"

"Technically, he won't, my dear," my uncle said. "He will send _you _to convince the Dark Lord to release him."

"What?" I shrieked. "No way! Are you out of your mind?"

My uncle only smirked. "Dumbledore will tell you all the details. No worries, Miriel. You know you are safe and sound here in the present. You know you will succeed." He reached into his box and pulled out a swirling, violet potion. "There have been many advancements in potions since the war," he said. "This is one of Severus' amazing inventions. It is an occlumency potion. Once you drink this, you will be able to lie to the Dark Lord. You won't even need occlumency lessons. You can shut down those feelings and memories that contradict the lie, and so utter falsehoods in his presence without detection."

"I can't do this," I muttered. I had the horrible sensation that my insides were melting. I'd had quite a few nightmares after witnessing the Dark Lord torturing Karl. "What if I mess up? What if the potion doesn't work?" My heart pounded as I realized what could happen to me.

"This potion is quite well known in the Wizarding world," he reassured me. "And it has not failed. This will seal the mind against magical intrusion and influence. How do you think you've kept so many secrets from me these long years?" He handed me the vial. "Drink up, my dear. Cheers!"

I glared at him for a moment. I downed the potion, trying not to gag. It tasted like dirty socks. And sour gummi-worms. Or at least, what I would've imagined dirty socks and gummi-worms to taste like. "I don't feel any different," I told him after a few moments.

He stood. With his fingers under my chin, he tilted my head back a bit, and looked deeply into my eyes. I forced my mind to go entirely blank.

"You really do have beautiful eyes," he drawled. "And that is all I see. Excellent."

* * *

Many thanks to all my wonderful reviewers. Thanks so much for hanging in there in spite of my slow updates. 

Arsinoe de Blassenville: Yes, Lucius would be kind of a strange grandfather, I couldn't imagine that he'd be ALL mushy. Poor Narcissa became addicted to alcohol and prescription potions as a reaction to all the stress of serving the Dark Lord. She's been in and out of PA (Potions Anonymous) and Lucius is really tired of the whole thing. HA! Thanks for all your reviews.

Alexa: Thanks!

Dragonfires: I would kill to go to school in New Orleans, but I'm afraid that grad school is rather difficult to get into at Tulane. Thanks for your review.

Sophie: Thanks for being so nice and reviewing my story. I have started reading "Dumbledore's Secret," and I like it a lot. I will review, but I'm just a slacker :-)

IcePrincess 42: I love the Snoopy dance. Thanks!

Cyrna: Thanks for going to all the trouble to look me up! I don't know what happened to Escaped. I hope she's still around and doing okay. Thanks for your review!


	31. Chapter Thirty

Author's Notes: I'm sorry that I've been torturing my readers with such long updates. If it makes you feel any better, I've been torturing myself. I wrote a large part of the story a certain way, but it just did not work out. Now I know what JK Rowling must feel like (yeah, right, except for the rich, famous part!)

The reference to Mirabel speaking monkey is from the movie, "Lemony Snicket's A Series of Unfortunate Events." The references to the magical wardrobe are, of course, to C.S. Lewis' Narnia books.

* * *

Chapter Thirty 

"Mirabel stole my plum cake!" Lucius Jr. said indignantly. "Again!"

"Don't be ridiculous, Darling," Narcissa told him. "She's seated over here by me. She can't possibly reach your plate."

"She just wants it, and it disappears," he said, "by magic."

Mirabel laughed, clumps of cake falling out of her mouth.

"That's disgusting," her older sister said.

"There is certainly enough frosted plum cake for everyone," Narcissa continued primly. "Merciful Merlin, it's not as if there's a shortage."

Indeed, the circular dining room table was loaded down with enough roast beef, rolls, fruits, puddings, cakes and cookies to feed an army of wizards and witches. Yule dinner at Malfoy Manor was a serious event. Here, there were no silly crackers filled with jokes and hats. Everyone was dressed quite formally in velvet robes. We ate by the glow of hundreds of candles that floated and swirled around the table. The soft light glowed on the golden plates and utensils, the blood red table cloth, and the crystal goblets that held our Yule punch. From time to time a house-elf, dressed in a festive tea-towel, would refresh our drinks or bring more food.

Mirabel attempted to say something to her grandfather, but it was unintelligible as her mouth was full.

"Are you by any chance addressing me?" Uncle Lucius asked her with a mocking arch of his eyebrow. "I'm sorry, I don't speak monkey."

The other children laughed.

"Don't coddle her," my uncle told his wife. Even for the Yule feast, he wore robes of black silk, and his silvery hair gleamed in the candlelight. "However will she learn to behave like a civilized witch instead of some kind of display in a Muggle zoo?" Although his words were stern, it was clear that my uncle was quite relaxed and in a good mood. It had been a very nice Christmas. He seemed especially happy that my mother was absent from the feast, as she chose to stay with the older version of myself at Silverthorn Castle. It was clear that even after all these years, they did not get along too well.

Under the table, Draco tried to hold my hand, but I reached up with it to grab my goblet.

"Are you still mad at me?" Draco whispered to me. "I Obliviated you for your own good, you know. I thought I had made that up to you last night." He smiled wickedly. I knew, however, that he was still wondering how I had found out about the Obliviation spell in the first place.

"Whatever," I said coolly, taking another sip of punch.

It was rather difficult to remain angry with him, especially after such a pleasant night, and an even more pleasant morning. It had been quite delightful to watch the children open their magical presents. The children obviously realized that something was not quite "right" about me, as I appeared to have forgotten many details of their daily lives. After I hadn't recognized the name of Mirabel's stuffed toy unicorn, Draco told them that I had been testing Gilderoy Lockhart's youth potion, and was experiencing unfortunate side effects. Only Gaius knew the truth.

I absently felt my uncle's letter in the pocket of my robes, and fingered the vial of potion. I was dying to know what exactly my uncle Lucius had written. I was so deep in thought, that I almost didn't hear what Mirabel said next.

"I saw Grandma Miranda tonight," Mirabel finally announced clearly. "With Father Christmas. I saw them in my wardrobe mirror."

"You mean your magical wardrobe?" the other girl said, rolling her eyes. "You are such a fibber."

"She always tells stories that she crawls into her wardrobe and goes off into another world," Gaius explained to me. "She says she talks to animals, fauns and Father Christmas. I think it's because you read her those books."

"Muggle books," Uncle Lucius muttered disdainfully. "Fauns indeed."

"Everyone knows that Fauns don't exist," Lucius Jr. said. "The Satyrs in the Forbidden Forest killed them all."

"They did not! And I did see him!" The little witch banged her fork down on the table. "He had a long, white beard and glasses, just like the pictures. He wasn't dressed in red, though. His robes were purple with stars on them."

I and the rest of the adults stopped eating.

"Maybe he dresses differently in the Wizarding world," one of the boys said with a snicker.

"Sweetheart," I said to Mirabel, my breath catching. "Did he say anything to you?"

"He was looking for you, Mama," she said. "I told him and Grandma that I wanted a wand for Christmas, a real one. Not a toy one. I want a pretty, sparkly one like you have." She thought a moment. "And then I saw him in a mirror again when I was in the bathroom going pee-pee. I don't think that was very nice, do you?"

I thought this last comment would provoke yet another comment about uncivilized behavior at the dinner table, but Uncle Lucius merely told me, "Dumbledore must have been searching for you." He glanced around thoughtfully, and I knew he was thinking of the hundreds of mirrors in Malfoy Mansion. The place had seven levels of rooms, after all.

My stomach squirmed uneasily. What if I had missed my chance? Was it possible that I could be stuck here? I looked at Draco, and he took me by the arm and pulled me to my feet.

"Let's go," he said.

"I want to go!" Mirabel cried, sliding out of her chair. "Where are we going?"

"But…" I looked around at the puzzled faces of my children. I felt the sudden longing to stay here, in this beautiful Christmas evening. I was jealous of the older version of myself, who would soon be joining them. "I love you," I told them, before Draco rushed me from the room.

Mirabel's room was quiet, but I felt the slight hum of magic on the air. I caught a glimpse of walls lined with children's books, the stuffed unicorn on her bed, and what looked suspiciously like Muggle Barbie dolls dressed up in tiny witches' robes. The wardrobe mirror, however, was empty.

"How are we supposed to find Dumbledore?" Draco asked me. "Is there some way you can get his attention? We can't just run around looking in all the mirrors. This manor's bloody enormous. It would take us years."

"I don't know," I told him. Taking out my wand, I tapped the wardrobe mirror.

"I'll check the bathroom mirror," he said, disappearing into the other room.

In my grandfather's book, there had been a spell to view the person you wanted in a mirror. Could I remember it? "I hope this works," I muttered. Drawing my breath, I spoke the incantation, including Professor Dumbledore's name.

At first there was nothing. The mirror then began to glow with a blinding light. The edges of the mirror curled back like parchment burning with a blue-white flame. In the center of the glass, I saw Professor Dumbledore and my mother gazing at me. She looked like she had been crying. His wand was upheld to the other side of the mirror, and his blue eyes were grim with concentration. I stepped closer to the mirror. My mother's hands were already reaching for me.

"It's Father Christmas!" Mirabel cried from behind me. I hadn't realized that she had followed us to her room. "See, I told you! I want to go! I want to go into the magical wardrobe, too, Mama!"

She tugged at my robes. When I tried to push her away, she finally wrapped herself around my ankles, sitting on my feet.

"No, Mirabel! Sweetie, you can't-" She must have been doing her magical-Velcro trick, because I couldn't even move my legs. "Draco!" I screamed.

Draco was instantly there, his wand raised. He muttered something, and Mirabel popped off me and fell back onto her bottom. Her mouth opened to scream. I jumped toward the mirror. I fell toward the glass, feeling my mother's fingers claw into my arm. I rushed forward, the wind blowing around me, as if I had once again stepped into a tornado.

The deafening wind ended. My mother held me tightly. I could feel her heart beating wildly. "I thought I had lost you, like I did your grandfather," she said, her voice shaking. She pushed me away long enough to look into my eyes. "Did you do this on purpose? Did you attempt time travel even though we expressly forbade it?"

Wide eyed, I shook my head. It was quite disorienting, suddenly leaving Malfoy Mansion like that. I hadn't even had a chance to say goodbye to Draco and poor Mirabel. I looked down at my Christmas robes, feeling as though I had been dreaming.

"Was that Draco I saw?" My mother asked. "And who was that little girl?"

"That was my daughter," I said. "Draco and I got married, er, we will get married, and..."

The mix of utmost surprise and horror on my mother's face would have made me laugh if it had been any other time. "That means…Lucius and I will be related?" she said weakly.

"Better to have him as a relative than as an enemy, my dear," professor Dumbledore said, remarkably calm considering the circumstances. "We almost despaired of finding you, Miriel. I'm afraid your daughter, as charming as she was, was not very helpful." Even through the exhaustion that etched deep lines into his face, his eyes were lit up with relief at my return. "I was not entirely surprised, to tell you the truth, to be informed that there is a strong resemblance between me and Father Christmas. I have long attempted to cultivate such an image to the students here at Hogwarts."

"This wasn't my fault," I told my mother. "The mirror sucked me in. If it hadn't been for Draco pulling me through, I don't know what would have happened." I turned and glared at the Mirror of Emit, but it was cold and silent.

"Did I not warn you about that thing?" My mother's voice rose with an edge of hysteria. She wasn't usually a screamer, but now her voice rose as shrilly as Mrs. Weasley's. I could tell that I was in for a lecture.

Professor Dumbledore held up his hand. "Please, Miranda," he said, his voice weak and husky. "I, for one, could use some strong tea, and perhaps some Pepper-Up potion. I'm getting too old for this sort of thing. Would you please cast the spell to leave this mirror?" He picked up my grandfather's spell book and tucked it under his arm. I remembered with embarrassment how I had kept the book a secret from him.

My mother caught my eye, and I knew that this discussion wasn't over.

"Of course. Thank you for helping me, Professor," my mother told him. With a word and a wave of her wand, a huge plate of glass appeared before us. I suddenly remembered that we were actually inside the Mirror of Erised. We passed easily through it.

In the Headmaster's office, Professor Dumbledore barely had time to order his drinks from the house-elves, when I couldn't hold back what I had discovered about the future.

"We won the war!" I blurted out. "Well, we will win the war. We'll destroy Voldemort, once and for all. He won't be coming back, ever."

"Good heavens." Professor Dumbledore's breath came out in a rush, and he sat down abruptly into his chair. To my surprise, his blue eyes shone with tears. He drew out a purple, silk handkerchief and dabbed at his cheeks. His hand was trembling. When he got himself under control, he said, "I'm afraid that with Severus gone, I had begun to lose hope," he said. "But my dear, the knowledge you possess of future events is quite dangerous, especially in the wrong hands."

"Nobody would tell me any details about how the war was won," I reassured him. "And my Uncle Lucius made me drink an Occlumency potion, so that no one could see into my mind."

Surprised, the headmaster's blue eyes fastened onto mine for a few moments. "Remarkable," he finally said. "But I must warn you not to divulge your trip through the mirror to anyone. It would be disastrous should this ever leak out to the Ministry of Magic or to the press."

"What about the members of the Order?" my mother asked.

Professor Dumbledore rubbed his forehead in thought. "Considering Molly Weasley's public interviews against Miriel, this would not be prudent. Should Molly ever attempt to retaliate against your daughter in the future…"

"That woman!" my mother snapped. "I am getting sick of her nasty comments and innuendos. She is completely unreasonable. I don't know how poor Arthur stays married to her."

"Professor," I said, fishing the letter out of my pocket. "Uncle Lucius wrote this letter for you. He said that this was how you were going to rescue Severus."

When the headmaster finished reading the document, his face turned the color of pale parchment. "Well, it appears that Lucius has done quite well for himself," he finally said. "His plan for rescuing Severus from Alcatraz prison is most ingenious." He handed the letter to my mother. "Miranda, is this possible?"

My mother read for a moment, and said, "The nerve of that man! Gloating like this!" She looked at the Headmaster, stricken. "Albus, this makes it sound as though you won't… you won't survive the war."

"Please continue reading," Dumbledore said.

After a moment, she looked up, a dazed expression on her face. "I never would have thought of doing this. I mean-" she swallowed and nodded. "I suppose that it could be done, Headmaster. It's actually quite a simple idea. Do you think it would work?"

"What?" I asked. "I've been dying of curiosity."

"The plan requires your mother to transfigure the Mirror of Erised into a likeness of the Mirror of Emit, and then to magically modify it," the Headmaster explained. "Voldemort would believe that he possessed the Mirror of Emit, and when he sees his own desires of ruling the Wizarding world, he would believe that he viewed his own future."

"But how would that help Severus?" I asked.

My mother looked thoughtful. "If the mirror could convince the Dark Lord that Severus was necessary to achieve victory in the war, if it could convince him that Bellatrix was wrong and that Severus is faithful…"

"Would the Dark Lord really believe that it was the Mirror of Emit?" I asked, doubtfully.

"He might, for awhile," Professor Dumbledore said. "It would confuse him long enough to buy us time. It could make Voldemort too confident of himself."

"What about my daughter?" my mother asked, her brown eyes filled with worry. "Albus, it's just too dangerous. I can't bear the thought of Miriel even being around that hideous… thing. Isn't there anyone else who could deliver the mirror to him?"

"I'm afraid that with Severus gone, Miriel is our best link to the Dark Lord," the Headmaster told her gently. "Word has certainly gotten to him by now that she is an extremely powerful witch. She attempted to curse one of Harry's friends, which should please him. She also has claims to my trust. I cannot imagine that Voldemort would be foolish enough not to take advantage of that position here at Hogwarts."

"When I was in the future," I told them, "the older me talked to me in a mirror and told me that whatever happens, I'll come out of it safely."

"That should comfort you. I would never jeopardize your life, but I'm afraid we have no other options," the Headmaster said.

My mother gave an unladylike snort. "Professor Dumbledore, you risk Severus' life and sanity all the time. Forgive me if I don't wish to see my daughter serving you as a spy as well."

From his perch, the Phoenix flew over to me in an explosion of fiery feathers. Landing on the back of my chair, he began trilling. His song was golden and uplifting.

"An excellent point, Fawkes," the Headmaster said, smiling. "Fawkes wishes to welcome you, Miriel, to the Order of the Phoenix."

My mouth dropped open. "I'm in the Order of the Phoenix?" In spite of everything, it did sound kind of cool.

"Yes, well, if you're going to risk your life and face the Dark Lord, you'd damned well better be in the Order," my mother said bitterly, shooting a hard look at the headmaster. "And after this, Moody and Molly Weasley had better keep their mouths shut!"

Professor Dumbledore said, "Very well, the Order will meet as soon as possible. Tomorrow perhaps. We will not mention Miriel traveling through the mirror to anyone. I will take full credit and responsibility for Lucius' plan. Speaking of your uncle," here he took out the velvet bag which held my communication mirror. "I'm sure you will have use of this. It's highly unlikely that Lucius will join us in our fight against Voldemort on my recommendation only. My hope is that once Severus is present among us once again, your uncle will reconsider."

"Thank you," I said, taking the mirror. "Professor, the Draco in the future told me that he had given my grandfather's spell book to you after I disappeared."

The Headmaster nodded. "He was quite concerned."

"I'm, um, sorry that I didn't give it to you immediately," I said sheepishly. "I was curious to read it, and I thought I'd give it to you later- after I'd read the good stuff."

My mother sighed in exasperation, but Professor Dumbledore merely nodded. "Sebastian's book vanished at the same time he did," he said. "Its location has been a mystery to me for years. He was a clever wizard. The Mirror of Emit chose this time to reveal it to its master's heir. Most curious. Your mother worked with that mirror while under the service of the Dark Lord, yet she did not discern the book's presence within the mirror. There are many spells here that will help us in our fight against Voldemort. If you were a fully trained Mirror-Mage, I would most certainly allow you to have it. As it is, I feel it is safer with your mother and me."

I nodded. I really wished I'd had more time with the book. I could remember some of the spells, but there were many more that I would have loved to experiment with.

"Your mother and I have much to discuss," he said. "The house-elves will help you to pack your belongings."

"Oh," I said, disappointed. "You mean I still have to move away from Hogwarts."

"I'm afraid so," the Headmaster said. "Now more than ever you will need secrecy as well as protection. I've instructed Remus to prepare a room for you. He will lead you to your new home tonight. He must give you special instructions on how to enter it."

With those curious words, I was excused.

Somehow, the house-elves already knew that I was leaving. By the time I reached my quarters, they were busy shrinking things and packing them away. To my immense surprise, Twinky sat on the sofa, drinking what appeared to be a butterbeer. A six pack sat on the table. She ignored the dirty looks the other elves gave her. No doubt they were scandalized by her behavior.

"You is leaving Hogwarts, Missy," Twinky told me sadly with a hiccup. "Twinky is never having such a good witch." She burst into tears.

I sighed. "Twinky, don't cry. I'm sure Draco will look after you."

This only made her cry harder. With another sigh, I sat down and opened up a butterbeer. It was disgusting stuff, kind of like overly-sweet butterscotch, and it did little to cheer me up. The rooms already looked bare and lonely. I felt bad, somehow, that I hadn't had time to say goodbye to the older Draco. How many years would it be before I saw my children again? It would be quite a few before I saw Mirabel, as she had been the youngest.

After awhile someone knocked on the door, and when one of the house-elves opened it, Moony walked into the room. His old-fashioned sweater and pants were quite threadbare, but they still managed to look nice on him.

"Is this a B.Y.O.B. party?" he asked with a smile, glancing down at the empty bottles strewn on the floor. "For 'bring your own butterbeer?' You won't get too smashed on that stuff, you know. The most it will do is give you a sugar rush."

"Hi, Moony. You look quite different with clothes on. Don't try and make me laugh," I said. "I'm too depressed."

"I know it's a disappointment to leave Hogwarts," he told me, making himself comfortable in a chair across from us. "But the fact that you will have the best dressed Defense Against The Dark Arts teacher in the history of Hogwarts should give you some consolation."

I opened my mouth to tell him everything, but then realized that of course, I couldn't. I couldn't tell him about my trip through the mirror, or about Draco and my children. I couldn't tell him anything. I remembered how he made me promise not to go playing around with time travel in the first place.

"Is something wrong?" he asked, his smile slipping a bit. "You look… guilty."

"Guilty? Me? No, nothing's wrong."

"You have got to be the worse liar in the Wizarding world," he told me. "It's hard to believe that you're related to the Malfoys."

"That reminds me," I said, standing. "I have to see Draco before I leave. And I have to say goodbye to Amalthea!"

"You're not getting away that easily," he said. "The last I heard, Poppy was still standing guard over Draco in the hospital wing. I don't think she's allowing visitors until he reverts back to his human form."

"What?" I asked, surprised. "What happened to him?"

"He got turned into- what was it now? A sea cucumber? Something disgusting, I'm sure. It seems that he had a magical skirmish with a few of the other Slytherins when he moved back into his old room," Moony replied. "Crabbe and Goyle are no longer protecting him, and his popularity has dropped quite a bit since his father... well, you know. I'm surprised you didn't know this."

"Those creeps hexed poor Draco!" I said. "Why didn't my mother tell me this happened while I was gone?" Stunned at what I had said, I bit my lip.

"While you were gone?" Moony's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Miriel, what have you been up to? And 'poor Draco?' It wasn't that long ago when you wanted to hex him yourself."

"Um, things are just different now," I said.

"This wouldn't have anything to do with a certain magical mirror?" He asked with a warning tone to his voice. "A mirror that I specifically remember warning you about?"

"I have to go see Draco!" I said. "And Madam Pomfrey. Excuse me!" Before he could stop me, I ran out the door.

* * *

Many thanks to my steadfast and faithful reviewers! 

Arsinoe de Blassenville: Thank you for your review. Yes, Lucius does make a rather hunky uncle! Ha! For the kids, I just thought of what my nephew would be like- with magic!

Sophierom: I'm so glad that you hung in there, and you're still reading! I really hope to finish this story by the time the HP and the Half-Blood Prince comes out.

Cyrna: Thank you so much for reviewing my story! I wish I could write more about Gaius and the dark mirror, but I'm afraid I have enough on my plate right now! Hmmm… that sounds like one of those sequel fics. Heh.

Beautywithin: I'm so happy that you found my story! I'm sorry I've been torturing you. I wrote a lot of the story where Mirabel accidentally goes back to the past with Miriel, but it just complicated the story line too much. It just didn't work. Anyway, thanks for your compliments!


End file.
